


Cascade Failure

by techno4tomcats



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: Anal Sex, Bisexual Characters, Blow Jobs, Brief mention of animal cruelty, Chronic Pain, Disability Illuminati, Disassociation, Drama, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, I'll add warning tags as needed, I'm writing by the seat of my pants here, Injury, M/M, Oral Sex, PTSD, Physical Disability, Profanity, Romance, Slow Burn, awkward dude flirting, beard snuggles, brief depiction of gore, cruel and unusual treatment heavily implied, disabling injury, disassociation during sex, gruff enigmatic men being tender in bed is my bread and butter, like saturn v level slow burn, mental programming, misusing the rebreather aug, neuro symptoms, neuroscience, office workers to lovers trope, prisoner experimentation, really bad pain management, spoilers for Criminal Past DLC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-10-01 03:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 37,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10179443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/techno4tomcats/pseuds/techno4tomcats
Summary: "A cage is a prison that protects both sides."Post London. The Human Restoration Act was dead in the water but systemic fear, hatred and pre-emptive measures aren't so quickly dismantled.Adam feels like he's falling apart at the seams and everyone around him takes agood, long, hard lookat the state of the world they live in.(Update 23/09/18  I....literally lost the plot. All my drafts and vagueish outline got nuked by a technical flub and my meat brain I hasn’t been up to the task. I want to finish this! It just....may take a while.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This idea bit me firmly in the butt after playing the Criminal Past DLC. And its refusing to let go. There will be spoilers for said content but they'll happen later and this is more a what if? than a direct continuation of said DLC. 
> 
> I'll be sure to trim and edit all tags and notes as needed. I'm new to multi chaptered stuff, my usual fare is porn, localisation of cartoons and copy writing for real estate.
> 
> I write Jensen like how I play him: Stealth, majority non-lethal and mostly diplomatic. Also assumes Spokes in two Wheels and saving Miller is canon.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_"Is your trust in hypotheticals so strong? Apparently not."_

Finally.

The heavy weight of his mission at Apex Towers; and the consequences of him failing it and everyone around him, was lifted from Adam’s shoulders. 

Victor Marchenko’s body lay on the polished marble floor, bleeding out from the almost surgical gash Adam had inflicted on his neck, slicing cleanly through the carotid artery. The residential towers across the way remained standing and the political and social elite were being evacuated, poisoned champagne spilled across the VIP meeting room floor, inert and useless now.

With an exhausted sigh, Adam slid down the pillar he had been leaning against; the same one he’d been slammed into and nearly had his brains splattered on, had he not reacted on instinct while being pinned by Marchenko; Hyperion laser rifle pointed at his head. He had tried to subdue the Ukrainian sleeper agent, but with time slipping away and a TITAN aug blocking any attempt at a bloodless take down, he had chosen to kill the terrorist, rather than risk hundreds of lives, the present danger of the explosives being triggered every moment Marchenko was alive and conscious to detonate them.

Didn’t mean he had to be happy about it. Dead men tell no lies, but also no intel on their superiors.

“Jensen.”

His info link flicked into life, toggling a secure line to MacReady. Adam scrubbed at his face wearily, feeling worn down to the bone and not quite ready to throw any scathing banter at his current CO.

“MacReady.”

Maybe the explosion had rattled an empathetic bone or two since Duncan’s voice was neutral and he didn’t seem to latch any criticism onto the tired drawl of Adam’s voice.

“Good to know I don’t have to scrape your bits off the walls just yet. You take care of the Exhibition Hall yet?”

Adam nudged at Victor’s arm augments with a foot from his seated position. Not a twitch. Just blood congealing and the tick of cooling metal. The turrets and drones remained stiff and silent, looking like oversized toys scattered across the hall.

“Marchenko is dead and the defence system set up down here seems to be tied to his biometrics. Remote detonator is secured. Any word on Miller? EOD been called in?”

Prodding at his HUD brackets around his eyes, Adam’s augmented fingers were rubbing tired circles around them in a vain attempt to settle the vicious ache that clamped down in his head like a vice, radiating down his neck and settling into a hot focus point between his shoulder blades. Adrenaline was ebbing away and pain was taking its place; his Sentinel RX unit going into triage mode as it began the process of healing the damage he’d sustained between the VIP rooms and the brutal fight with Marchenko.

MacReady’s patience had clearly been over-estimated. Adam could almost _hear_ the scowl over the comms.

“I know what I’m fucking doing Jensen. London team’s sweeping the city block. Apex Tower is clear of explosives and the residential towers are evac’d with the bomb squad doing their job. Be nice if you’d do yours and get your ass up to the helipad for a debrief, London coroner can clean up.”

There was a pause and Adam briefly wondered if MacReady had closed the comm line before it crackled back to life.

“Miller’s been helo’d over to The Royal London Hospital. I’m…I don’t know what you did, but I’m glad you got there in time. Mac out.”

He was glad as well. About many things; but especially that time had been on his side and that he had been wrong about Director Miller. Even if his stomach curdled at the thought of how utterly wrong he'd been about his intentions; how Janus, the collective had nearly swayed him into making a critical error in mis-understanding Brown's motive in opposing the Human Restoration Act. And that Miller wasn't on the Illuminati books. For a split second at the UTULEK complex, he had considered throwing his leash down in front of Victor. Right and Wrong, Truth or Lies. 

He'd been in so deep, ever since that assault on Sarif Industries, he'd forgotten to breathe. Forgotten it wasn't just him. It had been so long since he had the luxury of not looking over his shoulder or second guessing every order. Spent too much time combing for needles without looking for the missing haystack.

Right now, sitting on the floor, surrounded by blood, smoke and bullet holes, he felt very small and lost. He didn't feel like Agent Jensen. He felt like Adam, who dearly missed everyone he'd left behind and those who'd left him behind.

His HUD chirped and automatically slid the protective lenses out of their brackets, reminding he still had a meet up point to get to.

Adam wearily stood up, wobbling slightly as leg stabilisers fought his exhausted state of equilibrium as he made his way to the elevator. His internal battery blinked, trying to catch his attention. Adam ignored it, pushed aside the pain and fatigue and squared his shoulders.

_Take the small victories and fight another day._


	2. Arse Biscuits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a logistical viewpoint, this is bullshit. Sorry, this is bullshit, _sir_

It had been a gruelling few hours but finally, the Prague division of TF-29 were able to leave the convention centre. The debrief had resulted in little more than speculation on everyone’s part. The true motive behind the attack on Brown and the UN wouldn’t be solved overnight. The Hows, Whys, Whos and Whats of the Apex Towers terrorist attacks were only half known. How far up the chain was Tarvos Security compromised? Who did the Dvali buy off to smuggle that much explosive into a secured area? Why now? What the fuck was Orchid?

Interpol agreed.

Which of course threw a wrench into any plans anyone had of _actually_ getting back home anytime soon. And left MacReady with a unique and very irritating problem in the form of one Adam Jensen.

Well, for once not the actual man himself this time, but his travel papers.

Frigging. Authentication. Travel. Papers.

How Miller dealt with this was anyones guess. But Duncan was grateful the Director was at least alive to one day soon gripe about red tape as usual.

Since he was acting CO, it also meant he was dealing with all the shit that came with it. Agent Jensen couldn’t even get into London’s Command Centre, or out of the city, or even into a ghetto since some little pencil-pushing weasel decided that the Czech Republic's Level Orange permit didn’t mean _shit_ in the UK, and had placed a block on the aug's passport.

He could have been in bed by now. Or at least halfway drunk. Pinching the bridge of his nose, MacReady dragged his attention back to the phone call he was on.

“Sorry, what was that? Too busy thinking about how much your’e-“

The officer he’d been transferred to repeated herself in a clipped tone - cutting off any expletive he was about to churn out. He'd been thinking of a good one, too.

“ I was _informing_ you it would take days to sort out any resolution for..Mr Jensen's travel ban. The department is thin on resources to spare. Especially given your aug operative's...specialised modifications. I'm fairly certain at least two of these are illegal within Great Britain. Not even sure what that one is supposed to do."

The sound of nails tapping against a glass keyboard ran down through the phone line, indicating she wasn't finished yet.

"However you could in the meantime declare him as Taskforce ordinance and have him remain in your custody. I have you logged as authorised for restricted hardware.”

The cheery tone of that suggestion seemed completely off-key with the concept of reducing Jensen to the legal status of dangerous luggage. It took a moment for Duncan to process the underlying sentiment, leaving him somewhat flabbergasted.

It was a bit too close to that tool quip from a week ago.

Jabbing the end call button with more force than necessary, he spun on his heel to face the other agent, grimacing as he wondered how to tell Jensen he was effectively stuck. Either in a holding cell or with him. At least they were the only two agents left on the scene. He had a reputation to maintain back at the office as a man who got it done. And getting it done didn't involve pretending an Agent was his service pistol.

So it was a mixed blessing his explanation of bureaucratic cock-ups fell on deaf ears.

Jensen had obviously passed out at some point. His previous seat; an overturned trash bin had tipped over and Adam was slumped against the wall, eyes closed behind mirrored lenses, chin to his chest and snoring like a broken chainsaw cutting through fibre optic cable.

Well, _shit_.

Of course Jensen’s particular brand of shitty timing reared its head. The aug had looked like ready to drop earlier but MacReady had already guessed that, from how exhausted he’d sounded on comms and when he’d emerged from the lift for the debrief hours ago.

Just he’d underestimated how exhausted. This had to be karma for the luggage suggestion.

it wasn’t like he was going to just _leave_ him there. Personal irritation aside, Jensen was one of the team and had pulled more than his weight in tonights op and ensuring he was at least somewhere warm, safe and not riddled with bullet holes was his responsibility. And he had no doubt that it wasn't just the police in Prague with itchy trigger fingers.

Crouching down, MacReady gently poked one of the HUD glass lens. Nothing. Jensen’s nose was the next target, which earned him twitch but nothing else. Shaking him awake wasn’t an option, not when the agent was packing more heat than a riot squad.

 _Fine_.

His hand slid under the other agents jaw, nails scratching against the hairs of Jensen’s beard and tickling his chin. 

With a snort, Jensen jerked back into awareness, HUD lens snapping back into their housing while augmented eyes blinked owlishy. 

It would have been hilarious if the agents face wasn’t marred with an assortment of bruises, one particular bruise almost as black as the HUD brackets on his face, the swelling skin tugging at the metal on his face. At least with the fancy shades retracted, MacReady could see the agents mechanical pupils weren’t overly blown out or dilated; even if the synthetic irises was unnerving.

MacReady really didn’t want deal with London’s ambulance dispatch a second time tonight, especially given that Jensen was legally an object. Yeah, hearing someone else say it made it even worse. Starting to understand why the other agent was so damn prickly about being called a hanzer.

Duncan nudged the foot closest to him.

“Up you get. I’m dying for a drink and bed and you’re not supposed to be unchaperoned.”

Adam squinted up at the older agent, before the glasses clicked back closed and wearily stood up. Several servos whined at the shift in position and a crunch of cartilage followed a roll of shoulder blades. 

“I’up Mredy.” There was a pause, like he wanted to say more, but speaking took too much energy away from staying upright. Sluggishly, the agent thought that maybe he should ask why he was saddled with MacReady of all people, but frankly the idea of going back to sleep was more pressing. He had to focus all his energy on not falling over, which left none for talking, especially with someone who he always struggled to get a read on.

Mac watched Adam sway a bit, then as if on auto pilot, his feet shifted into an ‘at ease’ position. It was kind of uncanny, the motion far too fluid and it just further cemented how utterly un-natural augments were.

* * *

It took some prodding but the pair managed to navigate London’s streets fairly well in the early morning. What few onlookers were still loitering around seemed to have their eyes on them and it was starting to seriously irritate MacReady. 

_'What never seen former spec ops commander drag a leather covered cyborg down Kent St before?'_

Jensen seemed fine until half a block from where they’d be staying for the remainder of the investigation. The wobbling he’d displayed earlier was back and he seemed to startle every few minutes. The bastard had to micro-sleeping. Maybe a bio cell might have helped but honestly Mac didn’t know where to well…. _plug_ it in. Not like he was going to feel up the guy for a port that could be who knows where. Especially in public.

With a put-on sigh, MacReady grabbed the agent's right arm augment and slung it over his shoulder. He was getting too old for this shit.

It was like trying to wrestle a six foot tall wet pool noodle but he finally got Jensen to their hotel room. Naturally _of course_ a shared room because It was London and it was London after a huge posh convention that had been crashed by terrorists.

“I fucking hate the city.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MacReady is fun to write. Despite being British, he has a very Aussie temperament. Also any excuse to use expletives and my bizarre sense of humour. PSA: don't shake people awake. You're liable to get several things, none are pleasant: A) Panic Attack B) A seizure C) A broken eye socket D) A nanoblade to the groin.
> 
>   ~~And knowing is half the battle~~
> 
> *Orange level work visa/travel papers pop up if you try to wander into certain areas in the first act of the game. And you know, I suspect the Brexit vote in 2016 kinda made life harder in 2029.
> 
> "What are you, some kind of bad ass?" Oh if only you knew...
> 
> *I assume as well hanzer = Mensch Panzer? Still, kind of insulting when you never asked for it.


	3. Tidal Drift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If it was easy, they wouldn't be in this mess to begin with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for all major plot points in the main game. Things get a bit heavy and emotionally distressing. And wordy.

MacReady rather enjoyed how co-operative Jensen was being. Alright, so it took being near comatose for him to stop sniping at the other agent, but Duncan himself had hit that level of tired where everything was amusing and was bubbling with short lived energy.

He’d be needing that burst of energy for the next phase of dealing with the current situation. As tempting as it was to drop Jensen on the floor in a pile of dark leather and augments, that meant leaving a task half finished.

And he never half-assed _anything_. Potentially, along with his pleasant disposition, that was why he’d been married several times.

Jensen was still getting the couch; the goodwill of the evening didn’t quite extend far enough for MacReady to give up the bed. The agent's baroque styled trench coat came off easily enough, MacReady grimacing at the sensation of a thin layer of black soot that drifted from powder burns; the tactical flak vest sporting a few dents from deflected bullets that had been fired at close range. 

Frowning, he patted down the aug, sighing in relief as he found no entry or exit wounds, just chips and gouges in the agent's armored panels on his arms. 

“I’m sure that’ll buff out.”

He must have said that out loud, as Jensen stirred, smirking and squiggling to sit upright from the slumped over position he’d been placed in. That smirk then faded to a thin line as the agent flinched, right hand noisily coming up to his neck to rub at a spot just above his shoulder blades. From that position, Macready noticed with some disgust there was dried blood caking Jensen's right elbow. Right. The blades. He'd gotten a real close look at those in Dubai.

“I feel like shit.”

There was Mac's opening to insert a bit of normalcy back into the room.

“You _look_ like shit. Could give Jackson Pollock a run for his money with those ugly colours on your face.”

Duncan rolled his eyes as he tossed over a cloth, stained with grease from cleaning weaponry earlier that he'd finished out of his bag. Jensen stared at him blankly before he tapped his right elbow. Comprehension dawned and nauseatingly, the agent twisted his prosthetic at an inhuman angle to clean it. Clenching his fist, the blade housed in the inner mechanics of his fore arm slid out, giving it a brief wipe over before it slid back in, slower than usual. 

Yeah, that still gave MacReady a solid case of the willies.

* * *

Adam's arm locked up briefly before the soiled cloth was balled up and thrown at the nearest waste basket.

Adam sighed and lent his head back against the plush covering of the sofa. God, he felt awful; weirdly enough more awful that he should have felt. He’d been dragged through worse missions and worse outcomes but this was more like a bone deep fatigue that seeped into every bone, joint and polymer muscle. It took him a moment to realise he wasn’t sure where he was, why his direct superior was looming over him and how much time had passed.

His confusion must have shown on his face because MacReady shrugged, folding Jensen’s coat neatly before draping it over an armchair before filling him in.

* * *

“After the Apex tower de-brief you thought it would be a grand idea to pass out and leave me to deal with the red tape that follows you around. You did good Jensen, but it’s a clusterfuck out there. Couldn’t get you safe passage around London since your passports been flagged and..well I’m not nearly as patient as Miller with this shit."

"Figured best option was keep you in sight and we got squared away at this place. Shared because London's just as terrible as when I left it.”

MacReady didn’t feel like mentioning the _’also technically you’re declared as ordinance because aug rights laws are fucked up right now’_ part of the deal.

“So here I am, stuck with you until it’s sorted out, or until we get shipped back to Prague.”

Adam nodded, and leant back on the sofa, retracting the HUD shades; sleeping with them on was uncomfortable; and his eyes fluttered shut.

Only for them to snap open again when his nose was poked. Seemed MacReady wasn’t finished yet.

“I’m not done yet. Neither are you; I’m not paying any damage fees because you’re too tired to get your tac gear off and end up ripping the furniture upholstery apart.”

Adam made a tired noise of agreement.

“Fair enough.”

* * *

Of course, it was never that easy; that bone weary fatigue hadn’t abated at all, his mechanical fingers rough and clumsy as he fumbled with the straps and holsters of his gear. Shit, this felt like years ago, when he was learning how to use his arm prosthesis.

It was embarrassing having MacReady watch him, flinching when he tore off a padded ammo pocket and ripped a hole in his trousers by accident when his hand shuddered and clamped into a fist against his will. It _felt_ cramped which wasn't really possible and kind of alarming. It had been a long time since he'd had phantom pains in his arms or legs. The logical part of his brain knew it was psychosomatic, that it was a reflection of his pent up distress but that didn't stop the sensation of being tied in tight, constructing knots.

That lost and small feeling from before was back. His gaze was fixed firmly on his un-tied combat boots, feeling utterly ashamed at having a witness to this. 

It wasn’t about the pants. Or even tonight’s mission. It was about a thousand tiny drops filling a cup that overflowed, things been been ignoring and pushing aside for too long.

He hated losing control like this, hated how absolutely flayed open he felt. Adam dreaded the thought of seeing any look of mistrust or guardedness in MacReady’s eyes. He narrowed in on what had been left unsaid earlier: That his CO was here with him because it wasn't _safe __._

His mind just kept rolling back to that heated argument they’d had shortly before Prague entered martial law. He could rationalise it all he liked, that it wasn’t personal; but it was. It was possible that it was solely meant to cut him deep in retaliation for sticking his nose into the man's personal life or that MacReady sincerely felt that way. Was he not safe? Or were people not safe from him? 

He supposed intent didn’t matter at this point, it had hurt regardless. Even now, it came to the fore-front of his thoughts now he wasn't in combat or plotting through enemy territory. It left him confused on where he stood with MacReady, one more alert added to his constant state of hyper vigilance. The memory twisted around him, strangled him because _damn if the man wasn’t right_. 

Hysteria and panic bubbled up and dragged him deep down into the yawning abyss of fear and revulsion. He'd been digging his heels in since breaking into the Versalife vault, the necessity of finding the Gold Masked operatives keeping him afloat. But he couldn't resist the icy trickle of horror anymore, the one that started when he had toggled up the audio file in the vault. It flooded through the cracks, pushing everything else to the side. 

There was no ignoring what the Orchid was and that it was a part of him, grown and nurtured by the Illuminati to a razor's edge. Every part of him, weaponised. Every cell, drop of blood, husk of marrow could kill. It painted his memories red, it twisted and warped all the good he'd done, the lives he'd refused to take and the lives he had saved since escaped Facility 451 and made his way into the ranks of TF-29. 

_It snapped him back to Dubai, sitting in a cramped VTOL, blade sliding smoothly out to rest against Macready's sternum. The sandstorm roaring, the muted sound of his Typhoon shredding Gold-Mask clad soldiers, sentinel aug pulsing rapidly as ran for the Jinn helicopter. The Time Machine and the fear in Koller's eyes when he burned too hot. At UTULEK when he wavered at the sight of police brutality, anger simmering just below boiling and itching to take action. GARM flashed before his eyes. Then Prague, painted red and blue; air heavy with ozone and blood. Daria wanting to make him whole again and Adam having to tear in two to save her. How his fingers twitched at the thought of beheading the serpent that was the Dvali by killing Radich and Otar in the theater._

_When he’d found Miller, slumped against a cabinet in Apex catering, dying, it was if he'd reached a pivoting point in himself. All his precautions, carving out a piece of himself to stop hurting, letting it callous over so he could root out the conspiracy had been for naught. It still hurt, it still ate at him that a good man had nearly died because his judgement and moral compass were skewed. How many more he was unaware of? What was good and just these days, when the Aug Incident broke everything and everyone?_

Adam had gone dark to drag out the shadows, and each plant, bug and lie; chipping away what he considered the last piece of him untouched by trans-humanism; the inate and intangible concept of his soul.

All that he’d done felt _trite_ and worthless. 

Adam's fingers clenched tighter into the fabric tear, grinding against his leg prosthetic.

Absolution in part had come in the form of the Orchid’s neutralising enzyme when he witnessed the Orchid ravaging Miller. But for MacReady; he just _didn’t know_ what he needed. What he wanted.

_Take the small victories. Fight another day._

**I don't know if I can.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adam's been a continuous hot mess since Human Revolution. The human spirit can endure a lot, but still. There's limits before the micro fractures set in and patching the cracks will only help so much. 
> 
> And I _really wish_ I didn't have first hand experience with that. It gets better. But not easier.
> 
> The in-game dialogue I'm referencing occurs in the third act; if you bug MacReady at his desk after UTULEK (and before GARM) and persist, he'll snap and reveal why Jensen irritates him so much and why he rides him harder than other agents. He will also admit part of it is bias and irrational. Another branch will end the convo on a friendlier note


	4. Gonna Carry That Weight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not about the pants. Ok. So it is a _little_ about the pants. There's some mention of injury and sexual awkwardness.

Duncan had a quip on the tip of his tongue when Jensen tore off part of his tac gear. Habit really. Any chance to needle the aug, pull anything out of him, for reasons that probably needed a good, long hard look at.

He stayed his tongue however, when Jensen curled in on himself, refusing to look up or laugh, snarl, growl or make a snide comment on shitty fabric quality, instead freezing up, blankly staring at the floor.

Ah shit. 

At first it seemed like an over-reaction to ripping the pants. A chill ran down Mac's spine, the situation far too similar to one he's witnessed and experienced far too many times. A man's brain could be his worst enemy at the best of times. And this wasn't a good time, by any stretch of the imagination.

There was clearly a lot of shit going on in Jensen’s life; hell he could say the same for himself or Miller or Aria or anyone of the TF-29 team.

The difference was he was here _now_. And he couldn’t write his involvement off entirely as his attitude or personality not being part of the problem. Words didn’t exist in a vacuum, especially these days. He kept thinking back to their argument; Jensen had prodded him, tried to pull out the real issue, but he could have just as easily not lashed out defensively, taken a moment to examine...well it had happened. All he could do now was own what he'd said and learn from it.

It all came down to this: MacReady was a self-titled jackass but he wasn’t about to add to Jensen’s baggage. And there was a lot of it. Like a pile up at a luggage carousel at Heathrow International. All with a nice big fucking serving of PTSD and any other emotional traps that were rolling about in his mind.

He wasn’t about to offer up a shoulder or anything; not that was helpful right now or even _safe_ but he could keep his criticism leashed and offer some help. Really couldn’t sleep in the next room when Jensen was a fucking mess right now. _You aren't fooling anyone with the hard act, here._ He spent his live fighting cruelty, not adding to it.

He’d have words about this later. Preferably when Jensen was back in London, 2029 after some sleep and not when-ever and where-ever his brain was dragging him to right now.

Problem now was figuring out how to get Jensen back up for air without being disemboweled by accident. He hadn't forgotten the nano blades, eyes flicking down to the agent's elbows, currently tucked into his sides. 

"Jensen?" 

"...Adam?"

The agent's first name felt weird and heavy on his tongue. Like he was invoking a familiarity he hadn't quite earned yet.

No response. There was the beard tickle trick that seemed to work well enough earlier. Stepping over the bags of gear he hadn't squared away yet, he circled behind the couch, wanting some cover if things went pear-shaped. Better the lounge than him, despite mentioning he wanted to avoid paying-out of pocket bills earlier. Mac reached out and lightly scratched the other man's beard, just below where the fancy jowl trim was. This time Jensen didn't start or jerk awake; but the agent's shoulders slumped and some of the stiff, frozen rigidity of the flashback faded from his body. It was enough, the other man wasn't _here_ but he was close enough that Duncan could assist him without having bits of him cut off.

“Let’s just get this crap off you and make sure you won’t bleed over the cushions before I go to bed, alright? Your armor took a beating, gotta check you out.”

An awkward shoulder squeeze just above the black anchoring panels was the best he could manage with his thoughts all over the damn place.

He got a stiff nod in return; the best he could really expect.

His hands fidgeted for a moment, before deciding just to go ahead and start unclipping the fasteners of the agent’s flak vest, gently tugging straps loose. Jensen was just about vibrating with tension and pain and it honestly bothered him more than he thought it would. Maybe because he wasn't sure if it was from him being here. Mac prided himself on being a harsh taskmaster but some of Jensen's reactions were more closely linked to fear and horror and _that_ didn't sit at all well with him.

Removing all the agents gear went fairly smoothly, amused at how squiggly Adam was when he tried to get his boots off. Weariness stopped him from asking but Mac did wonder what kind of sensation the artificial limbs had. Could you tickle a synthetic knee?

He was doing pretty well keeping a lid on his neuroses until he tugged up the wool mesh sweater Jensen wore under the vest, revealing not only the missions physical toll on him but also the bulk of his augmentations. 

It wasn't like he'd never seen an augmented person before Jensen showed up at TF-29 but the reality of it hit hard. There was...so little of him... _left_.

Duncan couldn’t pull his eyes away from the hexagon shaped studs of metal under his hands. He assumed they were what supported and distributed the weight of the arm augments and torso modifications. Perhaps normally they were unremarkable, but being knocked around tonight had caused bruises to ring around each bolt and some of the faded scar tissue was red and swollen, some patches of skin speckled with blood spots. The ones at the base of Jensen’s neck were the worst; they looked hot and angry; a red stripe ran up his neck and seemed to pool under the bottom of his skull.

He was starting to rethink his decision not to drag Jensen into an emergency room, because his knowledge of first aid didn’t really cover this kind of thing.

He prodded one of the hexagon studs, which earned him a grunt of pain from Jensen but the metal didn’t yield, wiggle or shift under his touch. Well he wasn’t about to collapse like an empty soda can at least. A few cuts had broken the skin but the blood had dried and the wounds already closed. Right. He had one of those health systems squashed in his body. 

MacReady’s stomach flipped; his personal issues with augmentations warred with concern and were tingled with a dose of fascinated horror. Suppose the fact Jensen was staring down at his own bare, augmented feet was a relief, since he wasn’t sure if all of that was showing on his face. 

Finally Mac slid one hand down the locked up arm, finding nothing that seemed to have caused the malfunction that set off the episode. He then gently felt around the connection point, nothing seemed _busted._. Frustrated with a lack of answers, he pressed his thumb into the trapezius muscle, working around a knot of tension next to an anchor panel hoping at least it'd offer some abatement from pain. Nothing else had helped.

So he wasn't exactly expecting a throaty moan from Jensen and the locked up arm to suddenly flop and release its death grip on what remained of Adams pants.

* * *

If Adam was more cognizeant, he'd probably have been embarrassed by how erotic he'd sounded when he had moaned in relief. Whatever Mac had done, it had settled down the neural feedback loop and the phantom sensation and pain that had locked his aug up. Flexing his fingers, he dropped the chunk of fabric he'd ripped and fumbled with the zip of his trousers, almost gleefully yanking them off. _Oh_. 

That felt so much better. He rubbed soothing circles into the muscle of his thigh, wincing at the splotchy bruise that was forming. He hurt, in all senses of the word and he felt knee deep in a cloying mental fog but it was tolerable.

* * *

MacReady had yanked his hands away, modified he'd just either caused a pain spike or broke some vital component in Jensen. Motification then turned into first degree embarrassment when he realised that Adam wasn't in distress. Well _more_ distress. That little revelation went straight to his dick, the absolutely bizarre cocktail of concern and arousal making him press into the side of the sofa he'd been leaning on. Looks like that introspective look at himself was going to happen sooner or later. 

That would be his cue to beat a retreat, assuming he hadn't actually broken something. Tiredly, he asked the other agent if he needed to see someone about his injuries or his augments urgently.

* * *

Adam’s raspy voice answered Duncan’s question.

“My sentinel implant’s taking care of the worst of it. It's a tolerable pain. It's just everything hurts.”

Especially that point at the base of his neck. If his mind didn't feel like it was stuffed with cotton wool, maybe he'd be a bit more concerned about it. He didn't have anything left in him right now to hash over what had just happened or the mix of shame and gratefulness that made his chest feel heavy. He was exhausted and not the only one who was either. Looking up, MacReady looked about ready to keel over himself; suit jacket off and shirt rumpled, leaning heavily against the couch as if he could barely stand. 

Adam cleared his throat, voice husky with emotion.

"..I'll be alright for now. And...thank you. For looking out for me."

MacReady only grunted in acknowledgment before hastily stowing their equipment that had been sent over and disappearing into the alcove where the bed was. Adam curled on his side, back to the couch. He was just about asleep when a soft thump and weight settling on his flank roused him. A spare pillow and a wear-worn soft blanket appeared, Macready awkwardly passing the pillow to him and unfolding the blanket so it fully covered him, augmented legs and all, which were currently slung over the sofa's arms. Mac was hovering behind the sofa so Adam had to shift around to make eye contact.

Macready's eyes narrowed.

"Try not to snore too loudly, you're already a handful."

Adam opened one eye blearily, tossing off a sloppy salute before having the last word.

"Don't stay up too late."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a lot more angst until I remembered how awesome a pain drop feels. Like so good. Embarrassingly good. 
> 
> Also I'm posting at 2am because pain insomnia is the worst™ As I result I have proofed this chapter but uh there maybe errors.
> 
> Don't think that pairing tag is a 'maybe' now. (Steeples fingers)


	5. Masters of Hedging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lesson in table etiquette. Oh and both of them realise they've got a thing™ For each other.

It felt weird to be reporting in via phone but with Jensen’s travel ban still an issue, Miller incommunicado and MacReady not really eager to get up unless he had to, there wasn’t much choice.

Good news; the rest of the unit was cleared to return to Prague. Bad News; he wasn’t. Partially good news he was off-duty for the next 48 hours, as was Jensen. London unit had done their job and the time-sensitive task of scanning the site, transporting evidence and processing the false Tarvos Security guards that Jensen had “detained” was done. This investigation would drag on for months and would be high profile and would no doubt he a huge pain in the ass but that was a problem for future!Duncan, not him.

Operations were basically stalled for now, given the chain of command was a bit tied up right now. Normally he'd be chafing at the bit for some work but it's been a fucking _weird_ week and he's pre-occupied with how Jim is faring and also the human train wreck that was snoozing away in the next room. Mac's really not sure how to feel about Jensen. There's certainly amiability now and respect but he's hesitant to slap a label on it just yet, especially given he's not sure if all aspects of his anatomy are on the same page regarding the man.

But last night (or extremely early this morning to be technical) was kind of intimate in that he saw aspects of Adam that he was sure very few had seen. Gained valuable insight into _who_ Jensen really was. An ugly way to go about it but it was an ugly world that they lived in.

MacReady supposed they'd have to broach the topic of that flashback soon, as well as the niggling, semi-frightening fact that Jensen's augs weren't quite right. But he sure as shit wasn't doing it on an empty stomach. He leaned over and grabbed the glass tablet connected to the Hotel network and prodded at it lazily, placing an order for breakfast to be sent up in half an hour. That done, he padded barefoot out to the main room, already dressed and feeling fresher from a quick shower before he called in to Interpol.

Jensen was still on the sofa, its cushions flung about over the floor like a soft, plush version of a minefield and the agent curled tightly into the blanket. Some how he'd managed to squash his tall frame into a tight ball while facing the couch back support. He honestly looked like a giant pillbug and it was utterly ridiculous. Thirty-six, going on five years old, if his sleeping position was anything to go by.

Before he could say anything or pull out his phone for future blackmail, Jensen's head popped out from the make shift hood of the blanket, blinking slowly before mumbling;

"'Morning." 

It was a pleasant surprisee that the bruising on the other man's face had faded significantly after a few hours of sleep. The bruising on his back was better as well, but the red spot at the nape of Jensen's neck hadn't improved. He still looked terrible but it had been upgraded from 'shit' to 'crap' at least. With a pained grunt, Jensen unfolded himself from his sleeping position and shrugged off the blanket, shaking it out before absently folding it.

Mac was feeling seriously over dressed in sweatpants and a ratty shirt he'd absently stuffed in his overnight bag, seeing as Adam was bare chested and wearing only boxers. He hadn't thought much of it earlier, seeing as he was a bit pre-occupied. That weird 'not quite a _thing_ but this is kind of straddling the awkward intimacy fence' feeling came back as he inclined his head slightly, a pleased noise slipping out as he admired the sleek lines of Adam's torso, eyes wandering down a bit further than he planned. He was staring. Probably should stop doing that, especially since he didn't have any furniture to hide behind this time.

Jensen, for his part, leaned back, slinging his arms over the sofa, the start of a smarmy grin forming on his face. That brought Duncan back to reality and fixed the other agent with a glare. _Asshole._ Seemed he hadn't been as discreet as he'd hoped last night.

"I'm just glad you don't go full-commando. Got enough grey hairs already _mate_. We've got at least the next 48 hours off and for at least the next 24 of them, I intend on staying put. And you still look like a stiff breeze could knock you over."

Mac tried to resist the urge to fidget by crossing his arms, trying not to mentally panic because it sounded like... _well shit_ he was getting invested in the other man's wellbeing. On a personal level. Oh _hell_. He always cared; sometimes too much but normally he wasn't so transparent. He tried to deflect some of it with sarcasm but his words lacked any heat.

"I've ordered breakfast, should be here soon. We'll hash out what happened yesterday after food. Showers free, and full offense you really need one."

* * *

Adam stood up and rubbed the small of his back before lightly patting Macready's shoulder, a smile forming on his face as he lent in to dramatically stage whisper:

"It's a date."

Adam's grin remained in place as he headed off to the ensuite quickly to avoid having a pillow thrown at his head for that. It was rather touching how MacReady was fussing, in his own neurotic way. His smile faded slowly at the realisation he'd have to dust off some of his closely kept personal issues, he owed Mac an explanation. More than that, a part of him wanted to finally share the weight he'd been carrying for so long. Even if it just a fraction, he wanted to desperately trust again. Whether he could was another story. 

Sighing as he dug through the small studio bag he took on prolonged missions for a change of clothes, he reasoned that he was thinking too far ahead. It had taken a while to pinpoint _why_ MacReady's apparent dislike of him bothered him. He rarely concerned himself with how people most people viewed him, bar those he cared for or respected. 

Even before he'd stumbled into the Illuminati's field of view, he'd had a tendency to throw himself in the deep end, physically and emotionally. It was honestly his greatest strength and weakness. When it came to work, he was like a dog with a bone as Hugh Darrow once said. When it came to his personal life; well there was a reason he got so hung up on Dr Reed. He fell fast and hard for people and it seemed little had changed, despite him almost physically changing from the ground up.

The fact he was considering prodding MacReady about the heavy dollop of lust he'd picked up from his body language and CASIE aug, both last night and this morning was a good thing. 

Adam needed to let go and he needed to start living in the now.

He hadn't planned on having an epiphany in the shower, but he'd take it. And he'd take whatever came next.

* * *

Duncan had thrown one of the cushions he'd been tidying up, missing Jensen as the agent beat a hasty retreat after flirting with him.

_Cheeky bastard._

He decided to ignore the spike of relief that Adam was about as straight as an exponential curve. 

Precisely 29 minutes after he'd sent the room service request, one of the hotel staff knocked on the door and handed Mac a tray with two covered plates before departing with a friendly wave. Ah right, he'd gotten so used to forking out change in Prague, he'd forgotten that tipping wasn't really a thing in England. A relief because his credit chip was stashed away in the other room. Setting the tray down at the island bench that made up the very sparse kitchen and eating area, he pulled out a stool and sat down, idly poking his pocket secretary while waiting for Adam.

The object of his current affection-related crisis strolled in, looking significantly more relaxed after a shower and a change of clothes. Jensen's usually well groomed beard was fluffed out and with his shades retracted, he looked five years younger, his features not nearly as severe looking as usual.

With a pleased grunt, Adam sat down as well, pulling one of the plates closer before fixing Duncan with a mischievous look. 

"So what's the difference between an American Continental breakfast and an English one?"

Mac rolled his eyes.

"Your 9mm pistol goes on the left side of the plate, not the right. You keep that up and I'm stealing your bacon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tfw you realise you forgot to change chapter 2's title from its injoke and everyone is silently wondering what Arse biscuits is (I was streaming Top Gear while writing it) I might as well leave it now since I spend all of 15 seconds thinking up title chapters.
> 
> I also shuffled around the time line for this fic so fluffy bits are a bit more distributed before I drop the ~~beat~~ hook. I will admit I'm dragging my feet on the 'what was that' talk because I'm on the fence of how to erm resolve it. Procrastination methods included googling gratuity customs and tweeting about what birds Deus Ex characters would be. (My twitter handle is kyuofcosmic)


	6. Red Ribbon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, it's what you don't say.

Breakfast was a relatively peaceful affair, aside from Jensen making a move on one of Mac’s breakfast sausages. Turned out brandishing the fork like a weapon was useless against the poly-carbonate plating of Adam’s hand. As payback he stole the last piece of crispy bacon, enjoying Jensen’s expression of mock outrage.

It was nice, in a wistful way. Months of digging in his heels, refusing to see past razor sharp points and black metal and here he was now, play fighting over food with a grin on his face. Time breeds familiarity but hardship either breaks it or strengthens it. Mac felt a pang of guilt for having to shift the mood to someone more serious, but both of them needed to talk about what had happened at Apex and post-mission. 

But they couldn’t ignore this, not if Jensen wanted to work in the field anytime soon.

The silver lining of being ‘stuck’ in London and having temporary executive power over Tf-29 Prague personnel, is he could make the call in whether or not to include any post-mission incidents if it was deemed non-risk. Technically, well it had _been_ a risk but he was willing at least to get to the bottom of it. Jensen had taken a huge leap and put himself on the firing line to salvage the Apex Towers mission, and Mac could find he could do no less to help allow Adam to make future calls like that. He wasn't in counter-terrorism for the paperwork; he was here to save lives and stop terror. Perhaps a part of it was guilt. Perhaps part of it was a need to help, knowing all too well what it was like, to go dark and deep, mission after mission. Never wanting others to go through that, willing to bleed and scar for a chance to protect. He could feel cracks opening up in the wall he'd constructed, after Ankara, after failed marriages, after he'd tried to leave the military and found himself completely adrift.

It was terrifying, being so open, after all these years. And exhilarating. Like he was remembering to live after surviving for so long.

Jensen was something else to have wormed his way so throughly into his life in such a short time.

Mac scratched at his facial scar, more out of a need to fidget than any real itch. Ah hell, might as well be direct, he wasn’t doing either of them any favours by delaying this.

“Last night, it wasn’t just about Apex Towers, was it?”

* * *

No matter what angle he looked at it, this discussion wasn't going to be easy. Adam was grateful that Mac had paced it, let some of the rawness of the episode scab over before prying. Belly full and his Sentinel RX system tweaking his endorphin levels, there really was no better conditions to pick over the flashback.

"No. it wasn't."

There was a weighty pause, Adam struggling to articulate and condense what he wanted - _needed_ to say.

* * *

Duncan could see Jensen was floundering a bit. With his old unit, a shoulder squeeze or hand pat was the norm, but now he hestitated, left hand raised halfway in motion. Could Adam even feel anything with those hands? And what was left of his flesh and bone body, was pain the only sensation left? He dropped his hand back onto the surface of the bench, closing his eyes briefly before deciding Jensen needed a bit of direction.

"Alright. Start by filling me in on your augs, do..they normally do that? Lock up like that?"

* * *

Adam gnawed on his bottom lip, trying to puzzle out MacReady's thoughts. His body language was all over the place and with his CASIE implant switched off for privacy, he felt on edge; he liked knowing how a conversation was going to play out. _Stop being evasive. It won't win you any points with Mac._

"It's not a regular occurance. Not anymore at least. And it wasn't a malfunction; at least not on the aug side of things."

Adam flexed his fingers as he spoke, the motion smooth and precise.

"Sometimes I get phantom pain in my limbs, usually if I'm..." How do you express how utterly fucked up he'd been since Palisade Bank? That he'd been snowed in my too many painful truths and memories that it took one little thing to tip him over.  
His hands twitched as he tried to find a succinct way of describing an indescribable feeling.  
"...extremely distressed. Understatement, I know but it was a psychosomatic reaction. My body can't let my mind have all the fun after all during a flashback."

"Been a while since I've had it as bad as last night. But GARM really knocked me on my ass and then straight into martial law, the Dvali and then London? It was a bit too much, all at once."

Adam felt a twinge of guilt at omitting the Versalife connection but his paranoia had flared up. It was less he didn't trust and more he feared sharing that connection could be dangerous, especially given he didn't have the full picture in front of him. There were too many loose ends, his own assumptions unconfirmed and he was not ready to drag Versalife into the light, just yet. He'd keep that card close to his chest, at least until he understood it better.

* * *

MacReady zeroed in on the mention of GARM. He'd been too busy wrestling with whatever scraps of evidence Singh had found out after Dubai to know the full story. He knew three things: Miller had just about strangled Jensen post-mission, rebreather aug be _damned_ , somehow the agent had managed to grab valuable intel and that everyone had been avoiding talking about it. Then of course their arguement and then Prague going to shit meant no one had flagged it for investigation. Good and bad; it meant if they played it right, they could keep Dr Auzenne out of the loop but it had meant Adams sanity had gotten a bit frayed around the edges. A potent mix with a high risk mission.

"I'm guessing there's a fair bit you left out of your report post-GARM and that's it's a bit dicier than one of your augs getting stuck to a glacier."

Duncan scratched his chin thoughtfully, tone level and calm. 

"It's not out of morbid curiousity I'm asking, you know that yeah? But I gotta know what's going on. Not just for me, or the team but for yourself."

* * *

There was a part of Adam that recoiled at opening up, the ugly part of himself that isolated him, pushed aside everything and everyone in pursuit of uncovering the conspiracy. Agent Jensen, double agent and professional fence sitter.

But the part of him that yearned to be better, do better; the part of him that loved Miss Walthers, the part of him that ached in sorrow at Panchea, that tried to be good and _just_ in a broken down world.....it longed to finally be open, to _breathe_ , to feel hurt and to be soothed. He wanted to care and be cared for, he wanted to nurture this little seed of trust into something bigger.

Taking a shaky breath, he pushed aside any barbed, defensive words and let himself be open, after so long.

"I know."

Another deep breath, hands unclenching slowly.

"GARM....it was a trap. They knew I was coming, set up an ambush at the service entrance. Marchenko and the Gold-Mask mercs rigged the door and pinned me down. They injected me with a dose of Orchid, then left me in the snow to die. Luck would have it I overheard the Dvali connection while they were dragging me through the facility."

It hadn't just been the Orchid that kept him immobile as he was hoisted bonelessly onto the terrorists shoulder, fear had gripped him as well, fear of a helpless death and witnessing his own slow, painful demise. He had felt it before, admist smoke and fire, lying in a pool of his own blood while Namir put a bullet through his skull. Adam rubbed at the hexagon shaped impression marking where that bullet had shattered his skull and tore through him, shivering as his mechanical fingers traced around the edges. Still felt raw, after two and a half years years. It haunted him, made him realise how little he'd moved on. Voice thick with emotion, he continued.

"I couldn't get ahold of Chikane, it had been hours since the drop off and everything felt...disconnected. I assumed the worst but I couldn't stay in one spot and be found alive after the Orchid seemed to wear off. Rest of the mission went better at least, slipped in and out; the intel I got was in the report. Just..not how I got in."

"I'd thought..that Miller had sent me there to die. I was so convinced of that link, that it blinded me until it was nearly too late. I'm..just I got there in time to fix my mistake but I just... _fuck_ I was so wrong, no one else should have felt like that it should have been me _I_ " 

Adam stared at a chip in the bench surface, an itch of panic starting to spread. He felt vulnerable and hated it, completely out of his depth talking like this. 

He got so caught up in his self-loathing that he jumped when his right hand sensor detected a warm weight, Mac's hand covering the main plate of his mechanical hand, thumb rubbing little circles around the raised ridge of his remote hacking implant. He couldn't feel much through his augs but the gesture panged Adams heart. It spoke to him more profoundly than words would, a tender little red string tying them a bit closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuughhhh this took a while, between a pain spike and Ao3 force booting me out mid-chapter, I finally scraped up the spoons to post. We getting to the canoodling stage soon (wiggles eyebrows)
> 
> I decided to snip this chapter in two because it was getting really long/hard to parse. Mushy gunk later, angst now.
> 
> Also re: phantom pain. I know by DXMD Adams 'adjusted' to his augs but little muffin goes through a lot of emotional crap which can and does cause psychosomatic issues. There's a reason he's got books on it in his apartment and boxes of painkillers. Adjusted = not always pain free. (Looks pointedly at myself)


	7. Two Strings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leap before you look. That's how the saying goes, right? Affection isn't always measured in time or distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Imagine if you will, MacReady and Jensen not being as emotionally constipated as they are in game.)

Mac was feeling completely out of his depth. He had wanted to get to the root of the issue, but well.....he didn't think it had gotten that ugly, however. He certainly hadn't expected just how bad GARM had been and that it's impact had festered to the point that Jensen; with the 'seemingly emotional range of a toaster' (as quoted by Halliday), had been shell shocked by it.

Well that certainly put a lot of unusual behaviours into context at least. He'd known Miller a long time and knew he had a long fuse. Patience and perception: two critical aspects of Jim's modus operandi had been missing in the mad scramble to London's Apex Towers. 

Duncan hadn't missed the thread of fear, shame and regret in Adam's voice and didn't hesitate to place his hand over Jensen's. The man was hurting deep and Mac felt the need to return the trust Adam had given him with some of his own. He could put aside his wariness for the augments, take the time to reason out his thoughts. Silence was better than a verbal mis-step.

He'd expected the hand under his own to feel cold; he hadn't missed the fact that while Jensen articulated with his hands, he didn't really _touch_ people. He had thought it due to a form of arrogance. Maybe it was more for the comfort of others than his own? That seemed more inline with the more accurate mental profile of Adam he was building.

The alloy under Mac's fingertips was warm and smooth; it lacked the fine dips and ridges of skin but it had the weight and warmth of a real hand. Reluctance gave way to curiosity as the pad of his thumb stroked a circular divot near the thumb joint. It tingled slightly but it was a gentle buzz, not unlike placing fingers against a persons artery; a thrum of energy that something wholly mechanical lacked. MacReady cleared his throat and met Jensen's downturned gaze, voice intentionally calm. He know his sharp and quick tongue carried an undertone of judgement and in this case, he wanted to be clear he would not be passing any.

"I can see why, at the time you'd assume that. Must have cut deep, yeah?"

It stung him a little, as if he was slandering Jim's good name by admitting that. But without hindsight, he wondered if he would have made the same assumption. Tried to picture himself, stranded, poisoned and left to die in the bitter cold, knowing only a handful of people knew you were supposed to be there. It quelled the defensive anger to look at that accusation in that light. It made the jumbled pieces of last night fit neatly in place, made the disassociation and distress more...in tune with his new perception of Adam.

"But you know he didn't betray you. He wouldn't. Miller's a good man and I'm glad you saved him. I'm glad he listened to you. And I'm really _fucking_ glad you were there. And here now. You're a good man yourself. Try not to forget that, mate."

Duncan sighed, and lifted up his hand, only for it to be stopped, Adam's gloss black fingers loosely gripping his own. He could have tugged away, but he didn't _want_ to. Something was forming between them, a tiny, fragile thing and despite his poor track record of connecting with people, he didn't want to break this link.

"There's a mole at TF-29. It's not Miller. But I'll.. _we_ will get to the bottom of it."

* * *

_Touch hungry._

The phrase popped into Adams mind, a neat little label for the sheer relief and contentment he felt, the twist of joy when Mac had comforted him. It seemed like a mere handful of crumbs but it was a feast to him. Touch that did not hurt or pry or was coolly clinical, touch that was for him; not a by-product of something else.

Oh boy. He had it bad. Not just on an attachment scale but also as an indicator at how truly fucked up he was, that someone offering a gentle touch was putting him through the emotional wringer. His voice was still husky and raw.

"Thank you."

It sounded so trite; two words to encompass the gamut of emotions he'd been experiencing in the past day. But it was also the truth, plain and unburdened. He truly was thankful that Mac had seen past all the barriers between them, willing to adapt and change and to offer a lifeline. And he'd grasped it, willing to see where it went from here.

* * *

Mac squirmed a bit, those two little words carried an enormous weight in their intended meaning. the atmosphere of the room had lightened considerably in the wake of sharing truths but now everything seemed to be moving thick and fast again, pushing against his comfort zone. But hell, they'd come this far, _he_ had come this far. It was as if all the energy spent resisting, fearing, pushing away had suddenly inverted; rushing him towards this, thrill mixing with terror. This wasn't safe or sane or smart but it had so much potential.

So he took a running leap.

Duncan leaned over the worn bench and kissed Adam, one hand brushing against the other man's cheek, fingers lightly tickling the fancy jowl cut that formed part of his distinct beard.

* * *

Adam was fairly certain he looked a bit like a deer caught in a cars headlights at the moment Mac kissed him. The air had been thick with emotion, all bleeding into each other but this was still a surprise. Then the comforting, steadying sensation of his cheek being tickled snapped him back to reality.

_He remembered that. Such a strange thing to be feeling while drowning, but it was so welcoming and gentle when everything else cut him to the core._

Adam returned the kiss, hands itching to touch and comfort in return. Duncan's hands were braced against the chipped granite of the island bench and Adam gently traced one, keeping his hand loose; easy to push away if it was too much for Mac to process, hyper aware of his augments. It was frustrating, the lack of feedback, dull pressure and temperature were all the meshed pads on his fingertips would give him.

He could punch through a damn wall but couldn't feel smooth skin, or calloused knuckles.

He could certainly feel Mac's lips against his own, tasting the salt from a bit of bacon left on the other man's upper lip. He licked it off, smirking at Duncan's grunt of surprise before pressing a kiss to the deep facial scar the man sported.

If he couldn't feel with his hands, his mouth would have to suffice.

* * *

Jensen nuzzling his face and kissing parts of his face that wasn't his mouth was weird. Good weird, pleased that this wasn't one-sided affection. It took him a moment to connect the dots when Adam wasn't touching with his hands, the augments loosely splayed out across the bench. He hasn't considered what it would be like to not touch, how intimate gestures couldn't be translated into electric impulses, that it would be dull, lacking. Duncan wondered if it was like wearing gloves all the time.

Seems the cuddly face rubbing was going to be another unique aspect of this...experience with Adam. It was nice, once he'd reasoned out why. Still they needed to _now_ chat about this any further canoodling happened. Duncan poked Adam's nose to get this attention.

" Before I cut myself on your cheekbones, we gotta talk about where this is going."

* * *

Oh, he'd missed this. Pain taking a back seat to gentle caresses. God, he'd _forgotten_ how good it felt to kiss. But Duncan had a point, as fun as the sudden makeout had been, they both needed to settle on expectations, aware that making this work in any aspect would require balance and communication. Adam scratched at his beard, vaguely annoyed how unsatisfying it was with alloy fingers.

"Of course."

Mac looked thoughtful, gently rubbing at his scar before continuing.

"It certainly didn't feel like it, but me being a bloke doesn't bother you?"

Adam shook his head. His turn.

"I know augmentations are an issue. How...do you want to handle this? I'm willing to give what you want to take but I don't..."

He sighed. He'd never asked to be augmented. But it was a fact that being augmented was a part of him.

"I don't want you to fear me."

Duncan scrubbed at his face, mulling over his answer.

"Not going to lie. It'll take some getting used to, I can't switch off my wariness of them. But I'm willing to get to know that part of you. Just..be patient. New territory for me on that front."

A wave of relief flowed through Adam, the answer better than he expected. A blush dusted his cheeks as he realised that was part of the reason he'd been drawn to Mac. Beneath the harsh exterior, there was a willingness to change, adapt, to learn and grow. It look a lot of strength to change intrenched opinions, and he admired that.

Duncan's eyebrow raised when he noticed the pink flush of Adam's cheeks, wondering what on earth the other man was thinking about. He shifted in his seat, ignoring the spike of arousal that shot straight to his groin. Alright. One final question and he'd let Adam get some rest, the agent looking about ready to doze off.

"Lastly...I don't know how long this will last. Both of us work in the field, share an office and frankly have some messed up coping methods."

Adam nodded. _Undersatement of the century_.

"If we go ahead, we just take each day as it comes?"

Adam smiled. Pretty much how he lived these days. Seemed his love life would be no different.

"Each tomorrow is a new day."

Mac snorted and made a shooing motion at Adam.

"You look like crap. Go and lie down. Take the bed since I'm not using it. I've got a mountain of paperwork backlog to get through."

"Thought you said we have the next 48 hours off."

"Jensen, there's few things certain in life, Death, taxes, toast landing jam side down and the fact that for acting CO's time off is a fancy way of saying do your frigging paperwork."

"All work and no play makes Mac a dull-"

Adam was cut off by one of the sofa cushions hitting him in the head. Throwing his hands up in mock surrender, he turned around and made a beeline for the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stuck on the DXMD soundtrack mostly to drown out outside noise and belted this out in a few hours unexpectedly. (Blares airhorn) Houston we have lift off.
> 
> We are still a while off until the fic earns its h/c stripes and rating but we getting there. There was more cuddling in this chapter but then I got struck with the delightful premise of them sharing a bed next chapter. Nice™


	8. Shear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Jensen feels like he's several mental disorders stacked in a fancy coat. And MacReady ignores reality and tries to switch off his PTSD.
> 
> It could be worse. It could, also, be a lot better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit of making out but nothing overly explicit in this chapter.

Working on after-mission reports felt like slogging through the desert in a sandstorm. A constant battle against a force that only seemed to grind Mac's patience down. After a few hours of constantly cross-checking audio logs and meta data, Duncan decided he deserved a break. At least a stretch, he mused as he stood up, joints snapping as they shifted position. His feet seemed to wander on their own accord, bringing him to open entrance so he could look in at the hotel rooms bedroom alcove.

Jensen was completely out to it, curled in on his side, a quiet regulated snuffling sound punctuating each rise of his chest. 

Mac had been concerned about that when he checked in earlier, shortly after banishing the other man to bed, and had actually roused Adam to ask if he'd been hiding a chest infection. Adam had snorted at Mac's indignant huff, before tiredly explaining that in the deeper cycles of sleep or if his Sentinel RX aug was active, his rebreather aug would step in to regulate breathing. Not to the level it would when exposed to toxins, but more like an internal CPAP machine. Provided he didn't squash his throat too much, it stopped him from snoring.

He'd almost remarked that Adam already had more going for him than his second ex-wife but it was too early on to start drawing up charts.

Adam had just yawned and drowsily asked if he'd needed any help, eyes fluttering shut when Mac waved him off.

"You'd be next to useless. It's so boring I'm nodding off. Go back to counting electric sheep."

That earned him a raised middle finger before Jensen wiggled back under the comforter.

"Not a fan of the classics, I see."

* * *

Evening rolled around when Adam properly roused from sleep. Normally his sleep pattern was broken, snatches of sleep in between his perpetually messed up life and the nightmares that plagued him but clearly, he'd been on the verge of collapse. It was pleasant, to have a dreamless sleep occasionally. Even if it was partially induced by the network of implants that kept his vital organs intact.

It used to bother him immensely but after a few years of a messed up circadian cycle, it was a blessing to wake up refreshed. He was still tired but it felt normal, not the bone-deep fatigue that seemed to drain him when he got smacked around. Checking his reflection in the bathroom mirror, he noticed the ugly bruising on his face had faded even more since this morning, the deep reds and purples fading to green. His back still ached and his neck... _fuck_ it felt like a heated needle had been wedged under the skin - but he felt better than he had in a while. 

His current state of _contentment_ wasn't due to his Sentinel implant, but more reflecting on MacReady. He'd half expected to feel a stab of guilt or panic upon waking but instead there was just a warm, happy feeling, like he was sitting in a sunbeam on a lazy Sunday.

Yep. He had it bad if he was waxing poetic.

He headed out into the main room of their temporary quarters, noting it was just after 19:00 in local time. Adam still had his HUD switched off; the bruising around the frames made it painful but also he didn't feel like he needed it. The lenses were a useful way of providing distance from people, but right now he just wanted to see and feel everything.

MacReady looked up from the organised mess of his disassembled service pistol, its components scattered over a thick, worn cloth to protect the surface of the table Mac was using to clean his weapon. It was busy work more than anything else, given they were 'stuck' here but it was a routine that Adam was familiar with. It was soothing, to methodically clean and polish and put together something, from weapons to clocks and everything in between.

Adam bent down to pick up a tiny black screw, part of a 10mm outer casing from the gaudy hotel room carpet, before placing it back on the worn cloth. He could easily imagine driving MacReady nuts if he couldn't find it. 

* * *

At some point MacReady gotten fed up of staring at a screen so he'd stashed away the files and reports he'd been working on. He'd then gotten bored and pulled apart his _actual_ ordinance (not the agent currently sawing logs on the double bed) and proceeded to oil and clean each part. It was mindless busywork but it passed the time. He'd gotten so involved he hadn't noticed Jensen was up and about until he appeared by the temporary work bench, bending down to pick something up before dropping it back onto the cloth. One of the outer casing screws of his 10mm pistol. Fuck, he was tired if he'd missed that. Mac rubbed his eyebrows, accidentally smearing a bit of grease across his forehead. Gesturing to the scattered components of his gun before meeting Adam's eyes before admitting,

"That would have driven me mad all night if you hadn't have spotted it. Thanks."

Mac inclined his head, observing the other man critically. 

"You look a lot better. You feeling okay?"

Jensen nodded, expression thoughtful as he regarded Mac.

"Feeling fairly good. Nearly back up to my usual self. You on the other hand, look about ready to call it a day. Just a moment, stay still."

Adam raised his index finger, briefly licking it before wiping at the grease smudge on Mac's forehead and then wiping his hand on his pants.

"You had a little something on your face. Other than your usual resting scowl."

Mac rubbed at his eyebrow again, while staring Jensen down. That was incredibly domestic of him. The hedonistic part of his brain helpfully noted that, yes, Adam's augments were lickable. _Fuck._ He was in deep.

* * *

The rest of the evening passed by in amiable silence, over takeout and weapon components. Mac had swatted at Jensen a few times when the agent tried to 'help' him re-assemble his service pistol, before tossing one of his cleaning brushes at Adam. He regretted that as Adam grinned as he caught it mid-air, then started using _his_ fine toothed bristle brush to clean his hand joints.

"Mitts off, it's not a mani-pedi brush." 

Hearing Adam laugh, a genuine chuckle versus his usual sarcastic grunt was almost worth the indignity of someone else man-handling his stuff. Jensen then stood up, methodically cleaning up the leftovers from dinner.

Mac stopped him when the other man started to unfold the blanket he'd used on the sofa. While he appreciated the assumption of him needing space, it wasn't necessary. All in.

"I wasn't kidding about canoodling earlier."

Adam raised an eyebrow, the notched one, lips forming a silent 'o' as he re folded the blanket, slinging it over the back of the sofa before leaning down to kiss Mac's temple.

"Don't stay up too late."

Duncan scowled, annoyed he didn't have something suitable to throw at Jensen for that.

* * *

Adam was curled on his side when Mac lifted up the covers and squiggled in close, brushing his beard against Adam's, while one hand playfully ruffled the agents hair into a bed-headed mess instead of its usual widows peak. With an indignant tone, Adam questioned why he was the little spoon in this arrangement.

Mac poked at his ribs, avoiding any bruises that remained.

"Because I said so. Besides you're a bit of a Parfait spoon, mate."

Adam actually squinted at that, mouth ready for a retort when Mac seized that opening, reaching in for a deep kiss. Mac was rather pleased with himself that he didn't startle when smooth, warm hands gently rubbed at his collarbone, instead focusing on how pleasant it felt to have someone with him. The pair broke off the kiss then, Mac curling his fingers into Adams jowl, gently scratching in comfort while Adams hands, loose and slack began to massage the knots clustered around the base of his neck. It felt so _good_. The subtle heat and pressure melting away the stress he carried there. There was a brief pang of guilt, Mac reasoning that Adam was so good at locating sore spots because he had them on a permenant basis. Deciding to leap head first at his fears, he snaked one hand under Adams loose shirt, fingers gently probing at the web of scaring and support struts that held Adams right arm in place. Fingertips glossed over smooth scar tissue that formed the border between metal and skin and pressed gently into the remains of where the deltoid and trapezius muscles joined. 

Adam moaned in relief and pleasure. That spot was near impossible to reach by himself and it felt so _fucking good_ when that kink in the muscle, the one that had been there since he woke up in Alaska, finally released its tension. His cheeks flushed a bright red when he felt his groin tighten at the sensation. It was kind embarrassing how much he got off on someone touching him, not for any other reason than to make _him_ feel _good_. Apparently his psyche decided it was so rare, it was going to make the sensation erotic.

Mac had expected Adam would react, based on how he'd reacted last night to being touched but this was...uh... _interesting._ He hadn't intended to gee up Adam that much, but seemed the man was more touch starved than he thought. That moan had gone straight to his dick, shifting a bit so he wasn't pushing his hips too hard into Adams flank. Maybe he should amend that thought. Seems he was in the same boat.

They were sailing out of canoodling and straight into frottage territory.

He must have mumbled that out aloud, since Adam did that beard snuggling thing Mac was quickly getting fond of and whispered in his ear.

"We can do that, if you'd like. But I'll understand if that's a line to be crossed for later."

It was a bit too fast but he wanted to so badly. The tension in the air grew thick with want, Duncan meeting Adam's eyes and seeing there wasn't a need to placate or grudging arousal but desire. Those golden eyes cut right through him, intent on uncovering any scrap of recluctance, Adam pulling his hands away when his anxiety surrounding augments betrayed him, Mac not quite able to mask the flinch he'd had when one of Jensen's augmented elbows brushed against his spine. Fuck, of all the times for it to rear its head.

* * *

"It's alright."

It really was. Adam got it, that sometimes autonomy trumped baser instincts. He wasn't going to hold it against Mac, he'd known it would take time for the other man to get used to his body. Hell, it had taken years for him to adjust to it, the sheer otherness the implants caused in an intimate setting. He rested his head on Mac's shoulder and briefly kissed the deep facial scar that ran along Duncan's jaw.

MacReady huffed, frustration bleeding into his voice.

"It is and it isn't. Shouldn't be so frigging jumpy."

It was just he _knew_ those augs could dismember him, he'd seen mission footage of Jensen ramming the secondary blades into a security drone, ripping it in two, among other instances his brain decided to pull to the fore-front. It was hard to parse that with the Adam that was here, warm and _safe_ and wouldn't a shrink have a field day with _that_. He felt rather than saw Adam shrug his shoulders.

"It's understandable. Truth is I'm still struggling seeing these..." He lifted one hand and and flexed it to emphasise his point, "as _me_ in situations like this. So I know, I understand this won't be easy."

Well. That was a kick in the groin. Especially after this morning's 'I don't want you to fear me.' That pang of guilt was back, because it felt like all the progress they'd made had been undone and Adam was just rolling with it and the whole mood nosedived into something along the lines of self-depreciation. He could just get up and call it a wash. But Mac didn't want that, wasn't about to quit over this. Instead he wiggled back into his original spot and hugged Adam to his chest, careful not to press too hard, while his free hand stroked through dark hair, fingers gently mapping Adam's cranial scars. MacReady's jangled nerves settled in the embrace, and were soothed further when Adam leaned into the hug, tension bleeding out of his frame as he dozed off.

Feeling elated that he hadn't entirely thrown a wrench into the works, Duncan opted for a flippant remark.

"If you were easy, everyone would be doing it."

"Good night, _Mac_."

"Just accept you are pretty hot, alright?"

"Good _night._ "

"...We good?"

"Yes."

"'Night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kind of ran away from me. It was meant to be smutty and then it got sad because the boys from Prague are terrible with feelings and I'm in it for the long game. Tomorrow's another day, tho. So is the next chapter (wiggles eye brows)
> 
> Achievement unlocked: switch dessert spooning joke. Yes.


	9. Fervor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, will you look at the time, it's smut o'clock. With a dash of actual set up for the story. But it's mostly porn. EDIT: also the Criminal Past DLC thread starts now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A side note: I know it's canon in the comics he's had (really poorly drawn shower) sex since being augmented but I'm taking some liberties here; he hadn't had much intimacy beyond chaste touches after he left Megan. \\_(ツ)_/¯

Adam rarely dreamt.

Night terrors, flashbacks and memories didn't count towards the dream quota, he'd decided at one point in his life, an arbitrary but necessary form of setting his thoughts in order. Dreams were soft, they were weird and they faded away when the sun rose.

The dreamscape he found himself in didn't sit right with him; he recognised the orange sands and towering mesas of Arizona's deserts, as much a prison as the one made from concrete and steel that sat atop a towering formation of rock; The 'PentHouse'. This wasn't a memory in the strictest sense; he wasn't bound or choked but a pervading sense of _wrongness_ filled him. It was strange; how serene the view was from where he sat, perched high above the prison complex. There was no sound or violence, just the dusk sky, painted purple and gold, streaks of vibrant red clouds tinting the light a rich gold and orange. Adam looked down at his hands; the gloss black casing of his augs almost glowed in the saturated light.

But the sun soon dipped below the horizon and his hands were still stained red, the cloying scent of blood hit him full force. He felt revolted, confused; he'd made it out of that clusterfuck of a UC operation without taking a single life, why was he dreaming differently? His location changed; now he was lying on his side, pinned down and the overhead lights dimmed.

All his senses roared into life, colours almost blinding in intensity, the sound of heavy boots in a rhythmic gait coming towards him was deafening, skin prickling with tension. The heavy stink of gore and antiseptic stung his nose.

_This wasn't right. I don't..I don't remember this._

Wörthmüller appeared out of nowhere, petting him like he was a dog, voice tinged with regret; "Teddy's sorry, but he's got to do this. Strenger said so and Strenger was told by someone else and I was asked...!"

A sharp stabbing pain in his neck, and then everything faded out. 

* * *

Adam's return to wakefulness and reality was slow, like wading through molasses, only disquieting snippets of the dream - _nightmare more accurately_ remained. But he was warm and safe, strong arms curled around his torso, an organic hand splayed across his belly under his shirt; and a comforting weight pressed to his back.

As he shifted around to see what the time was, unwilling to activate his HUD for a trivial reason, Mac wriggled, pressing his hips into Adam's lower back, bringing to attention the other man's arousal.

The bizarre dream faded from his thoughts as Adam rocked his hips gently, pressing back into MacReady, more or less probing if the other man was awake or if the erection nudging his backside was the end result of a more pleasant dream than he'd had. He was hoping it was the former, it would be an excellent way to shake off that uneasy feeling in his gut and if he was honest, still craving release from their abandoned makeout session.

Adam had been truthful when he wouldn't hold it against Duncan, but he was hopeful they could try again, soon. He got a response when Mac thrust back, and one of his hands fumbled around before stroking Adams beard.

The beard scratch was really cute, it was growing on him as a unique gesture of assurance, and he rather _liked_ that it was for him alone, a thoughtful gesture designed to only bring comfort.

The tension in Adam's body faded, replaced with a fuzzy pleasure.

"Mornin' gorgeous."

Mac elbowed him in response to that, wincing as he missed his mark and banged his elbow on Adam's shoulder.

"Think you need to get your eyes checked."

Adam huffed in annoyance and kissed the stubborn twit he was in bed with on the nose.

"Nope. Diagnostics at 100%. Sorry, you just have to accept you've got a terminal case of attractiveness."

Mac shoved him playfully at that, rolling over so he was loosely pining down Adam's arms by their synthetic biceps.

"That...was some terrible flirting."

* * *

Mac supposed he should be irritated he'd been roused from a rather pleasant sleep, but it was hard to be annoyed when Jensen seemed more than willing to pick up where they'd left off last night. Adam was pliant under him, making it much easier to quash that irrational panic of being shanked in the midst of foreplay. The artificial meekness bothered him at first, until he realised it was less a patronising gesture and more of a willingness to go at _his_ pace. He'd been without intimacy for a while, forgetting this wasn't intended to be quick, fast and hard but more...give and take. Something he'd not felt in a long time and why his last marriage fell apart.

Ugh.

He was overthinking this. First order of business: there was far too much clothing on the both of them. Mac tugged at Adams shirt, an oversized ratty thing that was worn and soft. His hands wandered over the taut abdomen of their own accord, exploring lean muscle and the strange padded sensation of dermal armor. His fingers felt around until they dipped into a large scar, one that ran the width of his lower torso. It was deep and rather unsettling; Mac had team mates from previous deployments suffer gut wounds. An ugly way to die and Mac felt vaguely queasy at the reminder that Adam had, in a very literal sense been sewn back together.

He startled at Adam kissing his cheek, before nipping at his jaw and neck. It was enough to snap him out of that uncomfortable train of thought and finish pulling off the other man's shirt.

Adam squirmed beneath Mac, wanting _badly_ to touch Duncan, hands, lips, teeth, it didn't matter. But he knew there was a delicate balance; and truthfully he respected him enough to let the other man set the pace. Just...it wasn't _enough_ ; he wanted that hand back on his belly, feeling the sensitive ridges of the scar there and to slide down further, to touch his cock, half hard and tenting his boxer briefs. And he wanted to do the same to him, make them both feel so _good_.

_Oh sweet Mary an-_

Adam begging in that raspy whisper of his shouldn't be so hot. But it was and he felt himself flush, heat pooling in his groin. He needed to get clothes off, stat. Grateful at least he wasn't trying to struggle out of a suit and tie, his clothes hit the floor. He slowed when he reached for the waistband of Adam's underwear, reaching into them at Jensen's shaky nod. 

Adam didn't bother suppressing a pleasured moan when Mac palmed his dick, gently tugging him free of his boxers before yanking them down past his thighs. He rarely touched himself after being augmented. At first from fear he couldn't control the mechanisms in his hands, then from self loathing.

Such a blissful, simple sensation, he'd missed the feeling of skin against skin, panting when one hand rubbed at the sensitive spot behind his balls, the other loosely curling around the base of his cock. The touches remained gentle, fleeting, it wasn't _enough, pleasepleasepleasemoreplease_

* * *

Well, that was new.

MacReady always knew he had a bit of a power trip thing in the bedroom but _fuck_ having Adam Jensen, poster boy for all the lone wolves out there, begging was unbelievably hot. This was something he'd have to look into in the future. Right now, he wanted to bring Adam to completion, he hadn't missed the crack in the augmented man's voice as he pleaded, the basic sensation of jerking off a distant memory. There was a twist of pain, knowing why a non-violent touch would drive Jensen to the brink so easily, then it spurred him on, pleased he'd be the one to bring Adam to a much needed climax.

Mac stroked Adam's cock, slow and rhythmic at first, stringing out each motion. His other hand slid between upper thighs, nudging them apart so he could press his thumb against the soft skin of the perineum, rubbing in tight circles. So consumed with wringing those whimpers and gasps out of Adam, he didn't notice augmented hands running up and down his spine or mechanical knees bending upwards so Adam's hips could thrust up higher into his grasp.

He was so close to completion, just a bit _more_ it was a maddening itch to have his hands idle but caution kept them loose and free, not trusting himself to pull or clench with them when Mac squeezed the base of his dick. A few more strokes and Adam felt his body tense, balls drawn tight, flushed with heat as he came, growling with unconstrained pleasure as he climaxed. 

It took him a few minutes to compose himself after that, feeling somewhat overwhelmed.

"That..that was good. Uh." Adam shifted and licked his lips, trying to think of a tactful way of asking- _fuck it._

"Can I suck you off?"

Mac did a double take as he was reaching for a tissue to wipe off his hand.

Not like he was going to say no, but he appreciated a heads up. His cock certainly wasn't protesting either, erect and pressing against his abdomen. He blinked, before eagerly nodding, still somewhat speechless. Jensen gestured him to sit up by the headboard of the bed before planting a brief kiss on his lips. Adam kept his hands on the outside of MacReady's spread thighs, his arms easily supporting him in the somewhat awkward position, as if he was mid-way through a press. Adam kissed his way down Mac's belly, working up the nerve to the final event. Adam's beard tickled Mac's balls and he was about to nudge the augmented man to _get on with it_ when Adam licked along the underside of his cock, tongue curling just under the foreskin. Duncan wasnt entirely sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn't Adam taking his entire length in one fell swoop with no sign of difficulty.

Mac yelped in surprise, then soothingly ran a hand across Adam's shoulder when he stiffened and stopped.

"Just...fu- took me by surprise. Good. Surprise."

A hum, or a purr, whatever vocalisation Jensen did; it felt fucking amazing along his cock. He kept his thrusting to a minimum, not really wanting to spoil the languid mood of the morning, gasping as a hard ridge brushed against the tip of his penis. Oh right.

Wait was that the sub-vocaliser?

_shit_

Duncan could almost see the smirk Adam had on his lips if they weren't otherwise occupied; as he activated the microphone embedded in his throat. The vibration nearly tipped him right over the edge, then and there.

Smug jack-ass.

Then again he wasn't going to complain if their competitive nature extended to the bedroom and he got to feel like this on a regular basis.

"Pretty...uh..sure that's not in the info link manual."

Adam did it again, only this time there was suction as well, at the tip of his cock, rather than the base. Almost as if Adam's throat was pulling on him, squeezing and tucking and oh _fuck, it felt amazing, he wasn't going to last-_

Mac hurriedly tapped on an augmented shoulder, trying to warn Adam that he was about to come, not entirely sure if it was protocol to ejectulate down someone's throat on the first blow job. Seemed Adam was non-plussed; with one final sub-vocal growl, Mac was pushed over the edge, panting with release as it hit him hard and fast. 

* * *

Mac just sat there in a post-coital daze, enjoying how utterly relaxed he was. Adam sat up, wiping a bit of Mac's semen from his mouth, artificial eyes dark with pleasure before rolling off the bed to clean up. Still in somewhat of a stupor, Mac leaned back into the pillow he'd tucked under his back. Well. He certainly wasnt planning on getting much else done today.

Except, maybe twist Jensen's arm into letting him massage the other man's neck. The bruises on Adam's back from Apex Towers were pale green spots but that spot on his neck looked irritated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank GideonFluff and 1overcosc for the _delightful_ idea of using the re-breather aug as a fellatio device. And of course all the kudos, bookmarks and comments! I do this for fun but I'm glad you like it. Might be a bit of a time gap in the next chapter since I'm fairly itching to start plot-points. I got distracted. As you do. ~~mostly thinking about how Adam might have a thing for eating out or giving head I'm just throwing it out there~~


	10. Two Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (James Miller takes a long sip of coffee out of his '#1 Director of an Anti-Terrorist Establishment and silent wingman' mug). MacReady has an eureka moment mid-foreplay. Some more smut before things go belly up.
> 
> (This is why we can't have nice things™ feat Dr Auzenne)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we drop the plot crumbs. Just a heads up, there's a bit of disassociation mid-sex but there's zero non or dub con. Everything's above board here in that respect.

_One week later._

As much as he missed his own apartment and more importantly, his own bed; MacReady did have a pang of longing for that dinky little hotel room in London he'd shared with Adam a week prior. Those two days were like a bubble, just them and nothing else. It was the right atmosphere for the kind of intense connection they'd fostered but time marched on and both of them were sent back to Prague after Jensen was cleared for travel.

He was pleased that Adam wanted this little _tête-á-tête_ to continue, the other agent dragging him out for coffee when they had a moment to breathe in between the enormous mop-up operation TF-29 was engaged in. Sometimes they'd sneak a kiss in between Jensen reporting in his office but both of them had their focus on work and time for little else.

At least MacReady's work load was going to get a bit less hairy, since Miller was back on board today, in a limited capacity.

His boss and long time friend looked too pale under the harsh lights of the underground HQ as he stepped into the Director's office, standing at ease for a moment, before wrapping up the older man in a hug.

Jim awkwardly returned the hug, eyebrows raised. He almost asked Duncan what had gotten into him, but shrugged it off, enjoying that he _had_ been missed. The past few months had been draining but when he'd woken up, surrounded by white cotton and a steady chirp from a vital monitor a week prior, he felt something give in him, the self destructiveness that had fuelled him for so long disappearing along-side the Orchid enzymes. It was little bit of light at the end of the tunnel. It was a tiny little thread of hope but enough, _enough_ for him to try and start living again. Playfully shooing Mac off, Miller decided he'd take some time to walk around the offices, get a fresh perspective on his little corner of TF-29 before settling into what was, no doubt a literal mountain of paperwork.

It was subtle, but the atmosphere, at least three floors below Prague was a lot less tense than it was before leaving for London. Little things. Agent Argento's smile was less stressed than it had been in the past few weeks. Smiley actually noticed him walking past and waved; and Rourke nearly scattered half a dozen glossy photos on the floor in his eagerness to greet Miller. When Jim stuck his head inside the counter-terrorism office, he couldn't stop the snort as he looked over to the board wedged next to Agent Jensen's desk. The 'Aug is here' graffiti was gone (and about _fucking_ time) and replaced with a badly drawn cartoon dog, wearing sunglasses with a speech bubble reading 'I got this' with an arrow pointing to the desk below. Which was thankfully not covered in cereal boxes or packing peanuts now, but a scattering of glass-books and Jensen's signature coat, tossed haphazardly over the computer. As he spun about on his heel to drop by Mac's office, he spied Mac poking Jensen in the nose before kissing the agent on the cheek. Miller averted his eyes, whistling as he headed back to his own office, grinning.

That...well. That explained a lot. _. Not that saw anything. Nope._ Absolutely not a single thing out of the ordinary between his two top field agents. 

* * *

Many disasters in the course of history, great, small and personal often began with a tiny catalyst. A nudge, in the wrong spot, or a healing wound jabbed with intent, ill or not would be enough to set off a chain reaction.

So when Dr Auzenne received a 'request' direct from Manderley to re-open the psych evaluation on one of Adam Jensen's old cases a few days after Director Miller had returned to work, she didn't question why. Not that she often did; she had a role to play, as they all did. It was easy to push aside any discomfort about bending her position as a psychiatrist when she had even a small hope of shaping the future.

"It's nothing personal." Delara whispered to herself as she was packing up for the day, eyes lingering on the slim file next to her inactive desktop. She'd like to think the illuminati's intent towards Adam was beign or at least in everyone else's best interests.

Maybe if she kept repeating that to herself, it would be true one day.

* * *

"Remind me again Jensen, why is there a literal heap of garbage outside your apartment."

Mac shot Adam a filthy look as he side-stepped the stained couch that was upended and positioned like a barrier. Look, he knew it was Prague's poor district and all but he also knew Interpol paid well enough for a field agent to not be squatting in the almost-ghetto of the city. He caught sight of another tenant, pale and trembling, one arm missing, the other augmented, fumbling with the keypad lock.

Oh.

 _Right_. He had the luxury of ignoring the various institutions that held augs in contempt. It was entirely possible Jensen was here because he had no choice; Orange Level pass not withstanding or the fact he was a paragon of humanity. _Not that he'd be caught dead saying that out loud_. It rankled him no end that Jensen seemed to attract two types of attention: fear or outright hostility. It also made him wince in shared guilt because the banter and wit they exchanged started off as venomous as the stares Jensen got from the police.

He supposed Adam was lucky _lucky!_ he didn't have Neuropozyne supply issues or he had stable income; that his augments meshed well enough that his multiple amputations didn't disable him. God, even just standing here surrounded by raw contrete walls and clinging humidity was depressing.

Adam ushered him inside, his bisected eyebrow raising over shaded lenses, which retracted as soon as they both stepped inside.

Adam answered his earlier question. "Stops hawkers from bothering me and dissuades thieves if they think I have nothing of value. This isn't Hlavní St."

Fair enough. At least Jensen's place was clean, if not cluttered with an eclectic mix of sleek black appliances and antique furniture. Actual _paper_ books lined wall mounted shelves. Despite the man being stuffed full of cutting edge technology, he was a complete dinosaur. Was..that a mini-disc player? Good lord. 

It was endearing, to say the least and showed a snapshot of Adam few words could express. Adam was fussing in the kitchen, pulling out fresh ingredients he'd insisted on getting from a charming old women, tucked behind an abandoned store. She'd smiled and hugged Adam, heavy accent admonishing the aug about not visiting before handing Jensen a worn tote, filled with hydroponically grown food from her rooftop garden. He'd felt like an intruder until Adam pointed at him and gestured animatedly at the woman. Which resulted in having a happy laugh, a cheerful wave directed at him and then few ears of corn shoved into the tote Adam was holding for good measure.

"Should I be worried about what you said to your local green grocer?"

Adam waved him off, smiling.

"Only good things. A good person. A good friend."

"Just friends?"

He got a mock scowl from the other man for that, who was pointing a carrot at him as if brandishing a sword.

"A very good friend that's very good at tugging my dick, then."

Jensen tapped the carrot against his chin in a thoughtful manner, before running it under cold water, while he also rummaged around in cabinets, pulling out utensils from what looked like organised chaos.

Making a joke about built in food processors seemed in poor taste, so Mac just watched from his perch on the leather sofa. Adam hummed a tune as he worked, a melancholy slow pitched string of notes he'd picked up while roaming Detroit's neighbourhoods. 

"I'm sure I've heard that tune, somewhere." MacReady mumbled to himself. Shaking his head, he gestured towards the kitchen bench. 

"You want any help with that?"

"No, but could you hm..clear the table?"

Mac warily eyed the wooden table shoved up against the wall of the main living area. One chair was tucked in under it, while a stool had been hastily shoved under the window, next to the telescope.

"So....you want your combat rifle on the left or right of your setting?"

He got a piece of carrot thrown at his head for that one.

* * *

Dinner was a pleasant but simple affair. Adam had made a hearty goulash, the ideal thing for taking the edge off the chill that was creeping into Prague like a slow moving wave. It was almost domestic and frankly Mac couldn't really care less if it contradicted his more abrasive public persona. Adam nudged a finger of whiskey towards him before taking a sip out of his own glass.

"You didn't need to butter me up for sex, you know?"

Adam wiggled his eyebrows before responding.

"I wasn't aware you were such a _roll_ over. I just like seeing you smile. Feels good. The groping is a very welcome bonus."

Both of them sat in comfortable silence after that, until Duncan broached the subject they'd been dancing around since they'd returned to Prague.

"Sooo...how about a bit of show and tell?"

That got him a snort-laugh from Adam, gesturing towards the hallway. 

"Bedroom's that way. Get comfortable, I uh I need to freshen up a bit."

Mac squinted, then blinked rapidly as he picked up on that cue. He wasn't sure if they'd even get that far, considering the last and first time they'd had sex, they'd both finished embarrassingly quick, but the gesture was appreciated. As was what had been discussed before they left the Čistá district after work. Mac had made a lot of in-roads tackling his issues with augments but he was frustrated by his inability to completely relax around Adam. And if anything, the other man had been more than accommodating in that respect but it chafed him that it was an unequitable arrangement. So after some talking and crudely drawn diagrams on a napkin, they'd decided to go for a less desperate and more hands on approach. At least, that was the plan. 

Dropping his overnight bag by the antique dresser, he took a moment to see what the room said about Jensen. It was a mish-mash of styles that chaotically worked as decor, the desk opposite the bed was covered with an array of mechanical parts and fine tools, boxes of parts stacked on top of each other spread out over the surface. Most of it was completely foreign to Mac, but he spied an antique wrist watch, half disassembled. It seemed pointless; surely Jensen had an internal clock, but maybe that was the point, that he was looking at a hobby, not a necessity. He had honestly expected Adam's apartment to be sterile, mechanical, expecting to feel completely out of place, but much like the man himself, the place extruded a sense of contained warmth. Hiding away but it was _there_. Cosy.

Realising he was wool gathering, he hastily stripped to his underwear, folding his clothes absently and placing them on top of the dresser. It felt somewhat silly to be wearing underpants when they'd hide little to none but it was habit none the less. Mac sat down on the bed, fiddling with the sheets, amused and pleased they'd been freshly changed this morning by the feel of it.

Adam padded into the room, augmented feet clicking softly against the vinyl wood floor, and wearing only a towel. That didn't catch his attention however, instead it was the wet, scraggly mop that Jensen's hair had dropped into from the shower. He probably shouldn't have laughed but he looked like a drowned rat.

MacReady half expected he'd be in the doghouse for that, but instead he got a little half smile.

Adam supposed he should have been offended Mac was laughing at him, but truth be known, it was a much better reaction than he usually got when people saw him naked. He could work with it, grumbling half heartedly as he scrubbed one hand through his hair. Mac had seen part of his naked body, but not the full scope of it. And while he'd gotten a good eyeful of Duncan in London, he had been pre-occupied with shoving his face into the older agents crotch. So now he took the time for his eyes to roam over the other man's body, growling with desire.

"Pants off."

" _Towel_ off.""

* * *

Mac pounced on Adam, bringing him in close for a kiss, before pushing him down to the bed with a firm but gentle hand. And took the time to really _look_ at Adam's body. Not with a critical eye, but to understand the fusion of synthetic and organic. It was almost seemless; he mused as he gently traced the hexagonal pattern of the anchoring pins in Adam's chest. There was a border of scarring between metal and skin but it flowed with the elegant lines of Adam's original body and the new parts. 

Adam remained still and quiet under his gaze, allowing him to process what he was seeing, without the pressure of acting, just yet.

He was starting to grasp that the black casings and polymer muscle weren't a separate entity, hosted by Adam, but a part of him, in a way he really hadn't understood before. He lacked the ability to appreciate the sleek design for its technological wonder but he could now appreciate that the augs were what made Adam the unique person he was. The augs kept him alive, kept him safe and allowed him to _live_ in a way that was not possible without the technology.

Without it, Adam would have died. And he would have never have met him. At that...that was enough to quell the disdain and hate for augmentation he'd been carrying since the Incident. The lingering hesitation and fear around Adam faded, diluted with new perspective. Duncan began to explore in earnest now, running a hand along the smooth, manufactured edge of Adam's bicep. It felt warm and pliable, it lacked the steady pulse of blood but it was alive, mechanical fingers twitching. The augments were _nothing without Adam_ to power them, that revelation urging him to lean in close. Nuzzling Adam's beard as he dug his fingers into the tense muscles around the main connection port of the right arm aug, trying to find that sweet spot he'd found nearly two weeks ago. Mac was rewarded with that raspy gasp he'd grown attached to, feeling heady and and lust drunk.

"I think I understand now."

Adam stared at him in confusion, tilting his head to the side.

Duncan grabbed one sleek, black hand and licked the palm of it, the mesh 'pad' on the thumb slipping in his mouth. His cock twitched in arousal as he could _see_ Adam's artificial pupils widen, the thin golden ring of his irises seeming to glow in the dim light of the bedroom. It was still strange, foreign but it now held his attention, rather than fill him with dread.

"Touch me."

Adam was in a bit of a stupor, his brain only now just catching up to the dulled sensation of Mac licking his hand and the intense desire of the other man's gaze. Huh. He wanted to ask what the sudden epiphany was about, but he could only get a garbled huff of words out before succumbing to the lust that command brought out in him. His hands, pitch black against pale skin, roamed over Mac's body, molding into natural dips and curves of muscle that he'd long since forgotten the feel of. The sensation was dull, the bio sensors in his hands, while advanced, lacked the sheer complexity of natural nerve endings, but it was enough for him to hear grunts of pleasure brought about by his touch. It took him a moment to alter the waste heat feedback in his hands, earning him a quizzical look from Duncan as his eyes crossed over from concentration. Adam almost crowed with accomplishment as the increased heat flowed through mesh tipped fingers, beginning to press firmer into stressed muscle, soothing aches and knots.

Jensen was all over him like a rash, the touch of his augs almost ticklish until they pressed in with a deep warmth that sank into his bones. Oh fuck, that felt good. His competitive streak flared up, and he ground his erection against Adam's, smirking at the choked off-moan the other man let out. His free hand snaked between their bellies and squeezed the glans of his cock against Adam's, panting when those warm fingers slid down to the dip of his lower back, kneading his ass.

Macready stilled his hand, snorting at Adam's pathetic little whine and lent up again to kiss him, his voice hoarse as he pulled away.

"I want to fuck you. And I'm sure that's what you had in mind when you disappeared after dinner."

Adam was aiming for suave in his reply but he was terrible at small talk, especially during sex. No social aug was going to fix that.

"Guilty as charg-arGED!-"

His voice slipped up an octave when Mac slid a hand between his thighs, thumb brushing against his slicked entrance before briefly sliding in.

He yelped again, this time in pain as Mac pinched his inner thigh.

"Need more lube if you want this. And uh. I brought protection, lemme just - a-minute."

While Mac was bent over, Adam took the golden opportunity presented to him and smacked Duncan's butt before scooting over to the side drawers and pulling out a fresh bottle hurriedly before he suffered any immediate payback. Mac snatched it off him, grumbling under his breath as he slid a condom on and slicked his fingers up in preparation.

"How anyone thinks you're intimidating when you are such a dork, I'll never understand."

As much as he'd love to just thrust in, Jensen had told him earlier that he hadn't had anal sex before. Which was surprising since the augmented agent seemed to firmly straddle the fences as far as sexual attraction to other genders. First time for everything. 

"No or stop is a complete sentence here, alright? If you aren't on board with it, say so."

"Copy that."

Mac frowned at that, smacking the tender skin of Adams inner thigh lightly.

"Don't be fucking cheeky, I don't need to be thinking of sex next time I'm on comms."

Adam might have had a retort for that, but any coherent thought disparated when Mac pressed in one finger, then two. It felt different to when he'd stretched himself in the bathroom, more carnal and far, far more pleasing. Especially when those fingers nudged at his prostate, gasping at how amazing it felt, shuddering as his Quicksilver booster automatically activated. 

Christ. 

His hands blindly scrabbled at the sheets as he quickly toggled the aug off. He usually had it on stand-by but uh..clearly that was not an option in bed. The massive flush of adrenaline was a nice side-effect however, washing away any discomfort he might have felt as Mac stretched him further still, before withdrawing.

Had it been anyone else but Jensen, MacReady might have had a minor coronary at the sight of someone's spine snapping into an arched position so rapidly. As it was, he probably should have realised how sensitive the man would be, automatically soothing nerves by pressing his lips along the hard jut of Adams hip, his beard tickling skin. 

"You alright?"

Adam's yes was shaky but soaked in arousal, eagerly rolling onto his front at Duncan's suggestion, groaning in pleasure as Mac hoisted his hips up and pushed down on Adam's shoulders. MacReady scanned the expanse of Adams back, happy to see the heavy bruising from Apex Towers had completely disappeared, the only mark left in its wake was a ruddy patch of skin at the base of the augmented man's neck. It concerned him and was ready to ask about it, when Adam, clearly wanting Duncan to _get on with it_ , rocked his hips back and spread his thighs further, Mac's dick sliding along slicked skin with an obsene sound.

He wasn't going to last long at this rate, not with how Adam was panting, and certainly not with the delightful view of _his_ partner, legs spread, ass in the air and thighs slick with lube, cock almost flush against his scarred belly. One hand on Adam's hip, the other on his own dick, he slowly slid into Adam, savouring the slick heat. The whimpers from under him lacked any sign of discomfort and were punctuated by a steady stream of pleas and praises all jumbled together. Mac wasn't sure what compelled him to do so, but as he sank further in, he ran his hands along Adam's flank, crooning his own encouragement in tandem; before setting a steady pace of push and pull.

It was too much, so much, his nerves felt jangled, both on fire and frozen. He felt so full and tight, so raw and exposed, it frightened him a bit. He felt completely disconnected from the world, a thrilling and terrifying feeling. 

Adam let out a broken moan and squeezed his eyes shut, pleasure tinged with distress; his climax rapidly approaching but also feeling a thick glut of fear. He _burned_ in an all-consuming heat, jumbled memories of core meltdown bleeding into fractured recall of sinking into deep, dark cold then the horrendous slick feeling of thick glass slicing him open-

His augmented arms shivered uncontrollably, until a familiar touch dragged him back, the soft words of encouragement a tether to pull himself back up.

 _'That's it, open your eyes!'_

It was so unlike the facade MacReady showed to everyone, this was just for him, that gentle touch, the warmth and the strength behind it, was enough to tip him over the edge, a dry sob of relief catching in his throat. The rush tapered off, and the sick, ugly feeling in his gut faded alongside the disjointed memory, leaving only a flood of pleasure behind.

Adam had only lasted a dozen thrusts in, snapping into an unnatural rigidity moments before his orgasm, spilling himself over his torso and the dark sheets below. It was a relief to see Adam sag from sated exhaustion and pleasure, Mac been afraid he'd slipped into flashback despite his efforts to keep them both grounded, stilling himself as he coaxed Jensen back into awareness, awaiting a shaky nod before continuing.

Not that he could hold out much longer, the tight squeeze around his cock after one deep long thrust was enough to push him over that same edge he had felt Adam tip over, orgasm flooding through him with an intensity he'd not felt in a long time. They remained locked together for a few minutes, trembling and sweaty.

Duncan rolled Adam onto his side, pulling out in a smooth motion, kissing Adam's temple before staggering off to the bathroom to clean up, fatigued in a pleasant way that settled his aches and sore joints. He returned to bed with a damp washcloth, poking an exhausted Adam so he could wipe him clean. Mac made a move to get up and put the cloth in the hamper, but Adam snatched it off him, tossing it with machine-like precision into a small trash bin by the window before wrapping him in a full body hug, smushing his face against MacReady's shoulder.

"Cuddle now. Washing later."

It was impossible to peel Jensen off him so he could look Adam in the eyes, so he settled for voicing his concerns, while stroking the smooth alloy of Adam's hands.

"Are you...alright? Felt like you got a bit squirrelly back there."

"I-..." Mac felt the hot puff of an exhale on his skin before Adam continued.

"I was floundering a bit in my head. But I'm okay. More than okay. Well-fucked, even.  
.....Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got meaty fast. It was meant to be fluff but then my mean streak took over mid-point. Side note: I imagine in 2029 they've p much made STD vaccinations but Just in Case and Because there's condoms bc I really don't think either of them want to write home: "I met this gruff enigma of a man who gave me the clap."
> 
> *i spent too long trying to make a Deus/Deux French pun but it's probably for the best I trimmed it out.
> 
> A/N The tune Adam is humming is a ham fisted attempt to reference the various NPCs in DXHR who whistle the original Deus Ex theme.
> 
> Finally, please bear with regarding all the loose threads, they'll start to make sense soon.


	11. Snare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hold onto the good things; you don't know what may happen next, regardless of any failsafes in place. (For reference this sits at the opening sequence of Criminal Past DLC.)

For someone who was half polymer, plastic and metal; Jensen made a surprisingly good pillow. MacReady scrubbed at his eyes, and squinted at the tiny digital display on the radio perched on the bedroom desk.

4am.

Seemed even vigorous, emotionally charged sex wasn't enough to snap his body's circadian rhythm out of the cycle it had been stuck since his spec ops days in the Royal Army. At least this time, he didn't have sand in every crevice of his body and he was delightfully warm, thanks to Adam. Duncan idly wondered if the man was... _naturally_ toasty or if it was a case of hardware running hot constantly. Could you even overclock an aug? _'Pose outside of curiousity, it doesn't really matter_. He's made his peace with augs, or at least the ones attached to Adam.

He was getting too old to be watching someone sleep, but here he was, frowning when Jensen shifted in his sleep, nose wrinkling and the skin around the HUD frame brackets tightening. Mac gently rubbed at the taut skin and lightly scratched at Adam's beard, the now familiar gesture enough to settle him instantly. MacReady lay back down, and rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling, trying to sort his feelings out. Was it paranoia or past experience making him doubt how long would this last? The part of him that guarded the broken pieces of his heart rallied against his choice to pursue this, no amount of joy was worth the pain he'd dragged himself through. But he really couldn't sustain the brittle disdain he presented as a deterrent against people either. In part for the same reasons he couldn't walk away from the evils the world churned out. Because he _cared_ with all he had to offer and that couldn't be switched off, only hidden under layers of hostility.

Could be why, once he did finally let Adam in, he'd fallen hard and fast. Two peas in one very broken and fucked up pod. Content with that line of thought, Duncan rolled over again to spoon against Jensen's back before going back to sleep.

* * *

Adam was the first to properly rouse from sleep, he'd been out like a light since he'd fell asleep in a post-coital daze. A heavy, dreamless sleep, he'd barely moved at all during the night which was a blessing in itself. Until he adapted to sleeping next to someone again, it was near impossible to relax completely; fear of unintentionally hurting them being at the fore front of his mind. Jensen yawned, jaw twinging and his HUD chirping at him to be activated. He ignored it in favor of wiggling around, briefly confused as to why his ass didn't ache until he remembered that the protein therapy aspect of his Sentinel aug probably had been working as he slept, since he'd been keeping out of trouble the last two weeks. Probably for the best, since Koller had gone to ground when martial law hit. He hoped the aug specialist was okay, he was rather fond of Vaclav. Overzealous enthusiasm for poking at his body aside, he appreciated that Koller didn't lie to him about the hidden augmentations and gave him autonomy over them.

That train of thought brought up a whole slew of things he'd need to disclose to Mac _soon_. Adam wasn't looking forward to it, how does someone react to that kind of information? He'd probably have reacted a lot worse, had he not been nearly cooked to death from power drain at the time. And then...of course they were classed as military-spec modifications and oh _god_ this....this could get ugly and nope, not dealing with it, not on their scheduled day off and not after a night of amazing sex.

Duncan was still sleeping, limbs sprawled over the mattress since Adam had sat up on the bed and not in optimal position for cuddling. He was in awe of the sheer number of unlikely factors that resulted in this good fortune, smiling at how much softer Mac's features were when he wasn't tense with stress or anger. He was handsome in any light, to Adams eyes but he liked Mac best like _this_ , perhaps a bit selfishly, since he was one of few who could witness it.

The rest of the morning went by too fast in Adams opinion, lazy mornings always seemed to pass the quickest. He'd been puttering around his apartment for a few hours, mostly catching up on cleaning. His bad habit of leaving things around always caught him out; from empty unwashed bowls, to assault rifles, he was a bit of a pack-rat, the severity often reflected by his state of mind. Adam heard the shower running just then, briefly entertaining the idea of going in there to join Mac for a romp under the shower head but he decided against it, the thought of invading his privacy soured any perceived raunchiness he might get from it.

Instead he settled for leaning on the kitchen island counter and waited for Duncan to see him, smitten expression plastered on Adam's face.

"Morning handsome."

Mac raised an eyebrow and Adam rushed to cut off any self-depreciating comment.

"Nothing you say will convince me otherwise."

His shoddy attempt at flirting was waved off, with a grin that only spelled trouble.

"Nah, I'm not handsome, I'm _fucking_ gorgeous."

MacReady anticipated having something thrown at him for that terrible pun, ducking in time so that the empty cereal box aimed at him sailed harmlessly overhead.

* * *

Eventually Mac dragged himself back to his own place in the late afternoon, glad to see his own bed, but disappointed he was alone in it. Wasn't sure if he was ready to cross that threshold yet, especially considering the hostile environment his apartment block fostered towards the augmented. Funny how that didn't bother him a few weeks ago, but now he was aware of it, it was like a irritating buzz that pervaded near all aspects of life in Prague. Wasn't much he could do about that, but he could make a clear boundary and keep that _shit_ out of personal spaces he shared with Adam, as best as he could. The smart home system had toggled the TV on as soon as he keyed in his code, frowning as he half-listened to Eliza Cassan's steady voice echoing around the room.

_'In other news, the Czech government successfully passed Bill 2376b which would allow emergency services the freedom to deny the augmented-_

Duncan stabbed the off button on the remote with more force than necessary. Step one: disable the command that switched the TV to Picus News automatically.

The next morning, he'd awoken at his usual 4am with a start, sleep addled brain wondering why is was cold and where was-  
Seemed his sub-conscious was ten steps ahead of reality. Canoodling Adam Jensen wasn't a nightly occurance yet and the sudden reminder stung more than it should. Mac groaned and scrubbed at his face, missing when he was once a well-adjusted soldier and not a tired, old Interpol agent stuck together with sarcasm and rather piss-poor coping mechanisms. Young!Mac wouldn't be tripping over his feet this much, surely. Might as well _get-up_ and work out the restlessness that jolted him awake in the first place.

The distraction of the near-daily fitness grind did help, so he was feeling back to his usual-self when he stepped out of the TF-29 bunker lift. Maybe he could sneak in a quick kiss when Jensen came into his office for the daily recap before getting stuck into the current leads they'd pulled from London.

So he was disproportionately grumpy when he sat at his desk and rather than a rogueishy handsome asshole of agent sitting opposite, the chair was empty and a post-it-note stuck to his computer screen. Mac peeled it off, taking note of the cartoon dog printed on the right corner before reading it.

_'Sorry I missed you, Delara called me in early, not sure why. But enjoy the treat I left, to help with the ruff workload ;) -Adam'_

Rather than crumple up the paper, he stuck it to the daunting stack of glass e-books he needed to review. He then spied the plain cardboard cup, scrawled sharpie indicating that Adam had ordered his favourite coffee and next to it, was a wax paper bag. Lifting up the edge, he let out a snort of laughter, before carefully pulling out the pastry. A sticky apricot danish, and the baker had piped a puppy dog face on the top in chocolate icing. The gesture was almost neuseatingly sweet and so very _Adam_ in its presentation, he couldn't help but feel his chest tighten with emotion. Rather than puzzle it out, he picked up the flaky pastry and turned his chair around so he was facing the main window, so he could glance down at the lower level, wondering what was going on behind those drawn red curtains.

As he bit into the danish, crumbs scattering over his lap, he mused over the how's and whys of it, growing more irritable as he dwelled on it. Miller would have given him a heads up if he was going to be down an agent, especially if this potentially dragged on past one session. As team leader; if there was a personnel issue, he should have been notified by Dr Auzenne first. Not have Jensen in early to circumvent that's; if it concerned Apex Towers, as the timing might suggest. He'd kept his word, choosing to detail only what occurred at the convention centre, not after it.

The more he thought about it, the less he liked it. 

Mac hoped Adam wasn't having too hard of a time with it.

* * *

Adam, was in fact, having a hard time of it.

The session started off well enough. Adam tried to reign in his distrust: Delara had been helpful in pulling up a profile on Marchenko and seemed to honestly want to help but - and this was a huge contentious issue for him; he could not trust the circumstances in which Dr Auzenne had come to work for the Prague branch. Physicatrists, despite their intended profession as therapists, put people on edge, Adam included. The skills they used to root out symptoms and causes of mental illness, were also dangerously close to interrogation, walking that razor thin edge and more often than not, falling over it and causing horrendous damage.

He didn't like it. He never liked it. Especially not when he couldn't get a bead on the doctor in question. Was the sympathy sincere? It was impossible to tell, CASIE aug or no.

The distrust came roaring back in full force however, when Delara pulled out a thin file from the safe behind her desk, placing it between them, so Adam could see it was stamped with the TF-29 logo, North American branch.

Delara gestured to the file, before resting her hand on it. Was it hesitation or merely gathering words? Her neutral tone gave nothing away.

"I think it's best if we get right into it. Joseph Mandereley has requested I compile and review your first mission with TF-29. When you went undercover at Pentley T Housefather Correctional Facility."

Adam didn't miss the crisp snap of 'requested' on Auzenne's tongue; this wasn't a request, but a thinly-veiled order. He blanched at the thought of someone digging, pulling apart and analysing that mission, more so _his_ reaction to it. The sections of memory that he could not remember, the ones he'd tried to reach into? They had stuck to his psyche like slick oil, coy and suffocating. Dangerous. Some of those slotted into the hazy timeline of that mission. Including immediately post-mission. 

His right hand clenched tightly in his lap. He was boxed in, name dropping Manderley had a purpose. This was not something he could refuse, not without risk. Not without knowing why this was an order, why now and how.... _what_ Dr Auzenne hoped to accomplish. He had nothing but his instincts to go on, but this had the veiled fingerprints of Illuminati influence. A stab of icy fear shot through him. Was this tied to Janus? Or did this have its ugly knots tied into after he escaped from the WHO Facility in Alaska, which pre-dated the mission but it _had_ put him on TF-29s radar? Too many possibilities and none of them promising, the worst ones being the possibilities he couldn't _fucking_ remember.

With feigned confidence, he lent back into the therapist's lounge, pretending like he wasn't cataloging exit points and strategic scenarios. It helped he could somewhat tweak hormonal flow and heart rate with his augs, so he wasn't visibly shaking or giving away any sign of distress.

He hoped. Shit. Shrinks had him on edge at the best of times, and the past few weeks had been bouncing from low to high like a coaxial point on steroids. 

"Seems odd to be reviewing a _successful_ UC operation from nine months ago. Should I be worried?"

Delara's reassuring smile and explanation was anything but reassuring, what was left unsaid spoke _volumes_. Adam's gut twisted. He had a sinking feeling he was snared in a trap and now the wire was tightening.

This wasn't an evaluation or filling in blanks on the report.

It was a directed probe and worst of all, he had little recall of what Delara might be looking for or what she might find.

Adam's right arm twitched of its own accord.

More for his own comfort than Auzenne's, he kept his tone light, steadying himself in the faux indifference of the Agent Jensen persona. It helped a little, to treat it like he was recounting a funny anecdote.

"So you want me to tell you a story...."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100% on board with fanon ' MacReady is an insomniac and has a messed up internal clock' because fluff man! Fluff! 
> 
> It might be just me, but Adam strikes me as the kind of guy who does like cute things and may or may not use that to yank other people's chains or to off-balance them. (Gruff six foot cyborg Interpol officer strolls down the street in a weratedogs.com shirt) 
> 
> Not so fluffy: the underlying plot. The next chunk is pretty introspective and will start to fill in blanks so I decided to lead up to it then have it seperate.
> 
> A/N
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my old PS4, who died as he lived: hardcore. RIP man. RIP. Go on up to Electronic heaven and fling game discs to your hearts content. (I replaced ol' giggy with terry who I bought today)


	12. Torrent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'In the province of the mind what one believes to be true, either is true or becomes true within certain limits.' -Dr John C Lilly.
> 
> This is not going to be a bloodless assignment, despite what Delara thinks. This does heavily reference 'The Criminal Past DLC 'and the side mission 'The Last Harvest' so spoilers and speculation to spare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we get into the cascading aspect of this fic. There's a fair bit of mental fuckery and recall of a violent procedure. Read safe! Brief vague implication of animal experimentation.

_It was hard to forget the penned in feeling of being chained up in the back of a state issued VTOL, where the rattling of the engines were the only thing breaking the silence. No radio chatter, nothing to occupy himself with, his hands bound. Not even the brutal heat of the desert could touch the dark and chilled cargo hold. It might have been peaceful were it not the prelude to something violent._

Adam picked up the hefty bronze sculpture of Justice, turning it over in his hands while bitterly resenting the irony of the figure being present when he was supposed to recall the unjust.

"Adam?....Adam? You disappeared on me there." 

He made one last ditch appeal to Dr Auzenne, shielded gaze sliding down to the slim file in her hands. It was useless, what Delara was seeking were answers no one in the Phoenix branch of TF-29 would ever fathom to record.

Both of them were side stepping each other and the tension in the small office was heavy and oppressive. Auzenne dropped the pretense of this being about Agent Guerrero, the flimsy excuse dropped; nine months later and half a world away, any information Adam had on the rogue agent would be useless. But too late, he realised he'd been boxed in by turning this into a physchological recount. He could stonewall intel but not this, not without leaving himself open and jepodizing his dual roles at TF-29. They'd got him like this after Mexicantown. Except the stakes were much, much higher than his position within SWAT.

Jensen was resigned to see this through.

"It was my first undercover mission for TF-29. They had me undercover as an inmate at an all-aug maximum security prison known as the Penthouse."

Adam paused for a moment, trying to quash the memory of how utterly helpless he'd felt, chained, hobbled and out-gunned. He pondered if he'd rather face the automated turrets or the more subtle trap in front of him now. He kept his tone bland, as if he was reading from a prompt.

"We'd received intel suggesting terror attacks against pro-aug groups in the US. If true, the loss of life would have been devastating. Agent Guerrero was the only one who could confirm if the intel was solid. But he was Dark Opal. Already in prison, deep in cover and uncontactable by...regular channels."

"Would you have considered this mission high risk?"

A stupid question, but a nescessary one. Adam wavered for a moment before diving back into the Agent Jensen persona he was using as a shield.

"The job is the job. What else is there to say?"

Dr Auzenne shot Adam a look of incredulity before pressing further.

"I'm just wondering about the amount of stress that might put on a person. It must be...difficult."

He had to hold his tongue at that statement, as if stress was a concern where this session was concerned.

"We're Agents Doctor. We handle our roles as we need to. I had some idea of what to expect." 

* * *

Of course, it wasn't that cut and dry, he'd been woefully unprepared. Adam was an ex-cop and had seen the worst in people, on both sides of the law. He'd be naive to think there wasn't any underhanded dealings or abuse of power. He had just....sorely underestimated how deep the hatred of the augmented went. If the best were viewed as liabilities, how did others see the worst of them?

As animals, apparently, stumbling as one of his armed 'escorts' yanked hard on his pole arm, pulling Adam off balance. He'd expected no kindness and plenty of brutality. He hadn't expected to feel like we was being handled like a rabid dog.

Adam didn't resist; he had a mission to do and he couldn't do it if he was riddled with bullet holes. He also knew, logically, the prison had to have some way of shutting down enhanced implants and that it was likely it would be unpleasant. That situational awareness didn't stop him baulking at the sudden pressure put on his neck, as hydrolic arms plugged into the restraining collar ports and pinned him down with unrelenting force. His quicksilver booster flared to life in response, HUD highlighting whatever elements of the sterile booth he was trapped in, that could be used to defend himself. It was autonomous, not something Adam intended to activate.

Too bad the robotic corral didn't factor that in, as it pressed more force down, enough that if his spine and torso weren't enforced, they might have cracked under the strain. He was too busy trying to breathe under the strain he didn't notice one correctional officer reach for the zipper tabs on the back of his uniform and exposing the arched curve of his back.

Adam certainly noticed when that officer jammed a pair of forceps into a hidden port midway down his back, pulling at the reserve biocell tucked in there. The one that was an emergency failsafe, that kept his life support augs functioning regardless of physical condition. Adrenaline flooded his body at the intrusion but it was useless against the crushing force pinning him in place. Adam nearly bit through his lip trying to hold back any kind of noise when the biocell was torn from his back, the skin torn and wet. The cell was tossed onto the trolley next to him, the sound it made when it clattered into a small bowl made his stomach churn.

That had been unpleasant, but hardly the worst he's endured. But then the device pinning him to the floor didn't release. Another spike of fear ran through him, realising that the Correctional Officers weren't done yet.

This time, something was _pushed_ into him, at the base of his neck, insidious and sharp. A warm trickle pooled at the injection site, before it began to burn, inching up his brain stem. His Sentinel aug and hacking implants went berserk, flashing warnings across his HUD before the pain burned even hotter, sending a cascade of failure messages and corrupted data strings to flood his cranial augs, CASIE mod flaring up, modules flashing in random sequence before falling silent. The burn inside his skull roared to life, molten lava pushing and strangling synapses that registered his augmented limbs as his own. Adam maintained his composure, barely. No sound escaped his throat, but his teeth were clenched in an agonised snarl. The roiling wave of heat swamped his retinal augs next, HUD shades retracting against his will, vision dimming as the mechanisms that controlled the artificial pupil retracted, hardly any light hitting the optic nerve. 

So he only saw a silhouette of a man crouch in front of him, rank and ID badge obscured by his failing eyesight. Only the man's voice gave away his position, it was one of authority. Tinged with disdain and the arrogant smugness of someone taunting a restrained and wounded animal. Had to be the Warden of this hellhole.

"Hurts, don't it?" A quiet chuckle, as if they'd shared a private joke.

"We put a suppression bio chip doodad in your _noodle_." The Warden emphased his point with a jab of his finger right in the middle of the hexagon shaped titanium patch grafted to his skull. Stenger then smacked his lips, as if savouring Adam's growing agony. "Just think of it as a house warming gift from the great state of Arizona. We don't need you using your super powers in here."

Welcome to your new reality, _hot-rod_. Better get used to it." 

The pain was horrendous, burning through his mind like a brushfire and turning everything to ashes. His chest heaved with short, quick pants, groans escaping between his teeth. Static jumbled his senses, the pain, the choking _pain_ reaching a crescendo. Adam howled in agony. Everything faded to white, or was it black? No....snatches of dulled color, splashes of red, smell of rot stinging his senses, no that...didn't he wake up in his cell after processing?

* * *

Dr Auzenne lent forward over her desk - the room spun - and whatever she'd said in response to his recount of his prison processing flew out of his mind, replaced by a single desire to dig deeper into his memories.

No. Something else happened before he was placed in his cell. Warden Stenger left the white haze of the processing block, but he didn't. What...what happened? It hurt to think. He pushed against the dark web, trying to pull it loose so he could see what was underneath. 

He _felt_ compelled to remember. 

* * *

_Hands grabbed him- squeezed around his throat.._  
no that wasn't right  
_they dragged him, to a place that smelled of spirits and gore-  
he tried to grab onto anything, something! But then his head, his chest, his very being was squeezed tight, choking-_

_it hurt to listen, voices sharp and tinny - shouldn't the cochlear implant fix that? - arguing. About...about...Derrick. No he wasn't Derrick he was...no wait. He was Derrick here. Had to remember that Adam wasn't here. Important._

_Derrick had to live, one voice snapped. Derrick wasn't for the junkyard. Maybe he was junkyard. Maybe he wasn't. Maybe....he could be._

_Someone lent over him, blocking out the harsh lights, his eyes blurry...couldn't focus on them, it hurt too much. Pressure on his shoulder._

_"You are a mystery, aren't you? Don't like mysteries, especially ones with fucking (static) registry. Saves you from the butchers block, but not from (garbled)."_

__

__

_That voice! Familiar. Who?_

_There was that choking again, tight around his throat but clumsy..tired hands (when did augs get tired) couldn't break it loose._

_Now he was somewhere else, dark and damp, reeking of misery. Dogs were howling, overgrown nails scraping at wet contrete floors in pens opposite where he was lying, prone and helpless. Other prisoners on each side of him, glassy eyed and limp._

 _Then silence, following a curious sound over a tanoy. Like a switch had been flipped from fear to submission. Another person stood over him, jamming thumbs into his jaw, prying his mouth open before dropping a foul tasting pill on his tongue, a second set of hands yanking down his jumpsuit to inject something along the vein that trailed alongside his collarbone. His legs kicked out, useless and flailing. The last thing he heard before succumbing to blackness was a sarcastic grunt._

_'Good boy.'_

* * *

Delara inclined her head, brows furrowing at Adam's silence. Observing the agent, it only took a moment to rule out belligerence as the source. Adam had been tight-lipped and evasive on all counts but he at the very least talked to her when asked. This silence was manufactured, locking his body into a state of tonic immobility.

Seems Joseph _had_ a reason to be concerned; she'd uttered only one of the key words or commands she'd been provided by the council member when he'd assigned this task to her. **Rose Window** , a simple command designed only to stimulate ganglia, to assist in recall. It was not meant to cause distress or any kind of tonic reaction. 

Out of reflex, Auzenne reached for Adam's hand, intending to help guide him back to reality before stopping; flinching at how tightly his left arm augment was digging into the plush chair, the frame creaking from the strain. His right was locked into a fist, pushing into the sturdy surface of his re-enforced thighs. The story she'd divulged about the Aug Incident wasn't fiction, and that had been a _child_.  
Adam's enhancements read like sci-fi weaponry, and Delara had no doubts she could be sliced in half, if circumstances allowed it. Small mercies whatever had been...done back at the prison had caused immobility and not madness. A sleeper code phase sat on the tip of Auzenne's tongue, fear causing her to hesitate; who knew what would happen, if the codes reaction had been corrupted or overridden?

What cinched it was the distressed, quiet whimper bubbling past Adam's lips, face screwed up as if in immense pain. She could hear it from where she was sitting, alongside the harsh mechanical rattle of a rebreather aug trying to fight against hyperventilating lungs. He was close to passing out or worse. To _hell_ with objectivity right now, she was more terrified of cardiac arrest, his Sentinel aug then breaking the immobile trance he was locked in, one little sentence her only form of defense, should this turn violent.

"Adam...Adam! Can you... **Do you see the Far Lost Sun?** " her voice cracked as she said that, fear prickling down her spine.

For one second, that seemed to stretch into eternity, nothing happened. Then Adam went slack, tensed limbs loosening as he pitched forward, slumping to the floor. Delara shivered, the reaction was so..unnatural but at least the code had done what it was designed to do. A dreamless sleep. 

Her heart ached, bitter that...all this, was...nescessary, that he had to hurt Adam in this way, that her job as a therapist had to come in last, in this ugly world. Sighing, she kneeled down on the floor, gently manuvering the comatose aug into a recovery position, lifting his head so she could place an overstuffed cushion under it. Two fingers pressed against his cartoid artery, checking the steady pulse of blood.

This was horrid and he'd have to endure it again and again, until Auzenne could find out if the asset codes still worked. That Dr Cipra's programming still meshed and hadn't been warped by whatever mystery surrounded the UC mission. But there was no backing out, not for her and not for him. Least she could do was see to it Adam was comfortable.

Hours passed; and late afternoon rolled around when Adam finally woke up feeling both exhausted and refreshed, frowning when he noticed he was on the floor, instead of the patient chair, unease settling in his gut, mouth drawn into a frown. Trying to recall the last few hours, trying to remember why he was sprawled on Dr Auzenne's office floor gave him a brutal headache and a bitter taste on his tongue. He felt awful; must have looked awful too, going off Dr Auzenne's worried expression.

Adam didn't pick up on the artificial note of concern, nor the evasive tone in the physciatrist's voice.

"You blacked out on me Adam. I got you into a recovery position and let you sleep it off. You've been cleared for now...but why don't we pick this session up another day?"

His brow furrowed in confusion, but he nodded and slowly stood up. As if on autopilot, he exited Delara office, making a wobbly beeline for bathroom, the revolting taste in his mouth making him feel ill.

Adam lent against the sink, only noticing the dried trail of blood smeared across his face when he looked in the mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really sure how I ended up reading a good chunk of Dr John C Lilly's bio while writing this, but honestly the dude sounds like he'd be BFFs with Hugh Darrow and DeBeers. 
> 
> For the uninitiated Dr Lilly was a neuroscience major and in his later years studied the effects of sensory depravation and hallucigens. Also talked to dolphins and believed in a series of solid state computers that will form a bioform that would destroy humanity in 2011. Formed the order of dolphins. I'm not kidding. Wiki this guy, it's a wild ride.
> 
> Wacky dolphin conspiracy theorems aside, he -was- key in discovering key elements of neuroplastcity and theories used in neuroprothetics today. Also the key words (bold) I used are tied into ideas and stories based off his work.
> 
> I...don't think it's much of a stretch to see this guy on the illuminati payroll in the Deus Ex universe.
> 
> A/N in the opening video of Criminal Past, one CO is seen yanking something out of Adam. No confirmation what but when you first 'wake up' the energy bar is super wonky so I figured it must be a bio-energy component.


	13. Ebb and Flow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm. (This chapter does reference chapter 12 a fair bit towards the end).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the prolonged delay, I struggled a bit with this chapter, esp the pace. Been very ill lately as well, which doesn't help.

Adam scrubbed at his face tiredly, feeling like he'd been stepped on by a Boxguard™ Unit. He couldn't remember what exactly he had been doing to warrant feeling like garbage, but he was in his usual office getup. Which now had red spotting down the front. Frowning, Adam poked at his nose, feeling for any breaks or swelling. Did he get into a fight? He was in Dr Auzenne's office and he doubted he'd been tactless enough to warrant being punched in the face. Maybe he knocked his sinuses blacking out; Delara had mentioned something of the sort, as....strange as it was.

Everything was foggy and hard to piece together, he was just so _tired_. Trying to recall what happened today resulted in a wave of fatigue and trying to probe past that make his neck and head throb. It was concerning, that he wasn't overly concerned a good chunk of today went missing, but that concern flittered out of his grasp like grains of sand. All he wanted to do was lie down, but he was still at work and lagging behind in case work. Splashing water on his face, Adam rubbed at the dried blood crusted around his nose, alloy fingers wicking the blood right off his skin. Satisfied he didn't look as terrible as he felt, Adam made a beeline for the stairs, hoping to slip back to his desk before the more curious agents stopped him to chat.

Stairs were rarely an issue for him, his leg prosthesis handling them without issue, but today it felt like he was climbing a mountain of steel and glass. He was actually holding onto the rail, tugging himself up and feeling every nick and scar on his body.

He'd only meant to stop for a breather and lean against the glass panel that marked Cyber Security's portion of the floor but his rebellious legs decided that it was an excellent place to fold under him, back sliding down and depositing on the floor.

Well, _shit_.

Any hope of sneaking back to his desk was dashed as Aria spotted him, and raced over, eyes wide. Could have of been a lot worse.

 _Could also be a lot fucking better as well,_ he mentally grumbled.

"Adam! Oh my g- are you alright?" Aria dropped into a crouch, and grabbed at his shoulder, eye wandering over him for any obvious signs of illness. For someone who could headshot someone with a rusty air rifle from thousand yards away, Argento had a gentle disposition. And a quiet voice, thankfully no one else noticed the aug-exclusive party on the floor outside of Cyber Crimes.

"I'm fine. Floor looked comfy, thought I'd try it out." Aria swatted at him for the flippant comment, scowling before helping him to his feet.

"Really funny, Adam. Had me worried. Now are you going to tell me what's up or you gonna bullshit me some more?"

"No, ma'am."

That earned him another swat on the upper section of his arm augment. Aria rolled one hand, prompting him to continue.

"Just....dizzy 'is all."

Evidently that wasn't enough, as he was dragged to his desk and pushed down onto his chair. Aria then leaned in close, eyeing him critically. Uncomfortable with his personal space being invaded, he cleared his throat.

"Do you mind, _Agent..._ "

Argento didn't respond at first, at least not verbally, instead poking his HUD glass frames. Adam grunted in annoyance, which Aria ignored.

"I do mind! Adam, you just collapsed! And you haven't been out of the building all day! You could be suffering from rejection syndrome. With all your parts, things could go FUBAR in _hours_ I can't see any swelling but maybe it's not affecting your cranial augs yet, but I mean I've only got an arm! And I feel awful if I miss a Nu-poz dose, it must feel ten times worse and there's blood on your-"

Adam raised his hands in mock surrender, cutting off Aria's babble mid stream. It was sweet that she was so worried and it came from a genuine place. So he tempered his reply to her, smiling as he did so.

"It's fine. Really. Got a bit dizzy after a noseblood; and I don't have issues with Neuropozyne. Cross my alloy fingers on my scouts honor."

Aria shot him a sceptical look.

"Just had a...tense session with Dr Auzenne. Maybe the cold snap we've had affected my nose. My skull is a bit of a jigsaw puzzle with all my cranial augs, after all. I promise, I'm fine."

Aria frowned, but her disbelieving expression was replaced with a more thoughtful one. 

"I'm sorry if I over reacted. It's just too many close calls too soon you know? But I trust you to know if it's okay or not. I worry about you. You're more than big tough spec ops guy. You're Adam and sometimes I think we all forget that."

Adam wasn't sure how to respond to that, embarrassment coloring his cheeks red. Sensing that things were about as 'alright' as they got with Jensen, Aria decided to leave with a parting shot.

"You should go see MacReady when you can. He's been sulking all day."

_"Hey-!"_

* * *

Sometimes MacReady wished he had a brain-to-mouth filter. He'd been planning on saying something meaningful or encouraging to Jensen as soon as he showed his face around the Counter-Terrorism office. That was, unfortunately hours ago and he'd gotten caught up in his work. So when Adam poked his head into his office, he immediately said the first thing that popped into his mind.

"You look like shit, mate."

Good grief.

Adam shrugged it off, wryly smiling as he replied.

"Feel like it too. Can I..sit in here for a bit?"

Adam waved a glass book in the direction of one of his office chairs, sliding into one at his nod. Was it possible for someone to look as wound up as a spring and as floppy as a wet noodle? Jensen seemed to be able to, and Mac's gut twisted uncomfortably because he wanted to pry; solutions require knowing what was wrong, but he also didn't want to upheave the delicate balance they shared. 

Adam just had someone rooting around in his head for the past seven hours, poking it further would be an excerise in painful futility. Duncan figured as much because the _last_ thing he enjoyed after a psych session was hashing over it again or having someone openly fret about it in a workplace environment, given its deeply personal nature.

Not to mention Aria had told him what had happened after Adam been dismissed from the psychiatrist's office, the evidence speckled in his beard and on his sweater. That did concern him as a team leader; and he planned to corner Miller about it soon enough. Doctor's overriding orders or not, he wouldn't tolerate any undermining of the counter-terrorism unit. Auzenne was dodging his emails and Mac wasn't sure he was calm enough to have a rational head of department meeting about it without potentially causing bigger issues down the road. What a fucking headache.

All he knew is, he couldn't shoot the problem or dunk it in whiskey-  
Wait.  
He could technically do that after work, if Adam was willing. Plus it had the added bonus of keeping an eye on Adam, who seemed to be a magnet for trouble. 

"Sooooo...."

Crap, he was out of practice with the whole...whatever defined this thing with Jensen. Relationship. That was the word, even if thinking it felt like sticking his hands in a blackberry bush.

Adam looked up, lopsided eyebrows raised above the curved line of his sunglass augs. He was rubbish at this. Just... _fuck it, leap before you look!_ Mac huffed then continued, heaping on the casual nonchalance a bit too thickly,

"Want to head over to my place after work? With me. Of course." 

Mac rubbed at the bridge of his nose, annoyed with how he seemed to have regressed twenty years in the past two minutes, tripping over his tongue like he was dating his first ex-wife.

Thankfully Adam wasn't in the mood to needle him too much about it, a tired smile gracing his features before snapping back his shades, Jensen's own little way of showing respect and familiarity.

"I'd love to. With you. Of course."

Mac scowled, before drumming his fingers against his glass desk.

"One more question, then I'll get back to my reports; how the hell did you know I like apricot? Thanks, by the way for breakfast. It was neausatingly cute."

Adam tapped at his chin thoughtfully with the tablet he was holding before answering in a sly voice.

"Wouldn't be much of an Interpol agent if I couldn't figure that out."

* * *

Of course, the one day Mac decided to drag his augmented-partner home was the day every frigging police officer from Pallisade to Blade Plaza decided to check aug permits.

Usually once the orange coloured pass was shown, it was a non-issue but some members of Prague's thin blue line decided today was the day to be particularly anal about it. Jensen seemed to let the insults, propositions and lewd speculations of just what was plugged into his trousers roll off like water off a duck, but MacReady was honestly weighing the pros and cons of decking an officer and letting Miller sort it out. 'Pose that would be another little 'natural' privilege that he _could_ get uppity with a cop and not be shot on sight.

That said, seemed Jensen had his own way of toeing the line as he overheard the terse discussion between an officer and Adam. Something about _ass_ ets and voided warranties, which ended in his papers being shoved back at the aug and Adam patting his butt in a semi-provocative way. Duncan couldn't help snorting with amusement, especially at the annoyed sputtering of several non-augmented commuters. 

_Prudes._

Thankfully Mac's apartment complex wasn't too far from the train station, so any further checkpoint incidents were avoided. Not that there was many checkpoints in Náměstí Mečů, a blessing especially given that Adam's endurance was flagging. He had looked awful earlier and it seemed whatever had occurred in Dr Auzenne's office was catching up to the other agent. A thread of worry tangled in his thoughts, and worse still, he wasn't entirely sure Adam _himself_ was aware what was wrong. Working in a combat zone tended to bring out any 'tells' a person had rather quickly and Adam had a few, more if his shades were down. None of them were pointing to a lie or misdirection, if anything, the other man was more open than usual. Just very...foggy. Disoriented. But different enough from the kind of disassociation he'd seen back in London or had experienced himself back while on a combat tour. As tasteless as the analogy was, it was like all of Jensen's wires were crossed and overloaded but not quite critically impaired, he was still _here_ mentally. Just with some serious lag. 

It was unnerving to say the least, that _something_ was happening under his nose without him knowing about it and especially to someone he felt genuine affection for. Maybe a drink would help him ferret out just what was going on. Maybe sneak in a cuddling session while he was at it.

At the very least, he was glad he could keep an eye on Adam tonight, dis-satisfied Dr Auzenne seemed to be blasé about the whole thing and the TF-29's CMO hadn't even filed any paperwork. Fishy was a goddamn understatement. 

* * *

Adam didn't miss the side looks Mac had been giving him since they'd left the train station. He wondered if Aria tattled about his little...mishap, before admonishing himself for reducing her concern down to petty social politics. Of course she'd report it to someone, it was fortunate it was to someone who wasn't inclined to tar and feather him over it unless he screwed up. And in all honesty, his "I'm fine" facade was far from perfect today, he was just too tired for pretense and Mac had seen him in shambles before.

That said, trying to temper two years of paranoia and hypervigilance was a battle in itself, along with the bone and titanium weariness that settled into all of his limbs. The short walk to the district just off the Plaza was done in peaceful silence, no strobing red and blue lights or the hum of police drones, a bittersweet reminder that not all of Prague drowned in violence. Just a shame the peacefulness was contained to the 'natural' side of things.

MacReady took him to a little whole in the wall restaurant on the way to his place, citing he wasn't bothering to cook and that this place had, hands down the best Indian curry in Prague.

"I'll take your word for it."

That earned him a lecture on the finer points of North Indian cuisine, MacReady gesturing grandly with a fork loaded with Tikka Malasa. He countered with Mexican food which then devolved into what were the weirdest things either of them had eaten. Mac won that round with kaleh pacheh while on tour in Iran, Adam wincing when he toggled open a browser to google it. While he wasn't sold on the merits of a good Vindaloo, but it was good food and almost as important, none of the 'naturals only' bullshit. He made sure to deposit a few extra credits as thanks when they left. 

Usually Adam had a pretty good memory, and tended to make keen visual observations but today, it was like everything was wrapped in a thick fog. He felt edgy that he didn't quite know where he was in relation to more familiar parts of Prague, so he tabbed open his wayfinder app on his infolink and stuck a pin to mark his position on the map function, tagging it with MacReady's comm line so he wouldn't forget the address once they arrived. He was hopeful he'd get to come back, the complex much cleaner than Zelen Apartments, and quiet too. Downside was he stuck out like a sore thumb and garnered some filthy looks, but he wasn't here for _them_ , but for him. 

Adam mused on Duncan while averting his eyes from the locked keypad, out of respect for Mac's personal space. What was Mac to him? His boyfriend? Ugh, that didn't fit. Paramour? Wrong Century. Lover? Maybe. Partner - that would work for now, until the next step forward. He hoped forward. He'd even settle for sideways.

The door chirped in an electronic greeting, the serene tone of the home AI addressing MacReady. While Duncan fiddled with his coat and key cards (Adam noted that he dropped them into a little strong box on the kitchen bench) Jensen took a minute to poke around, his insatiable curiousity getting the better of him. The place was...nice. Neat, that was kind of expected. Alex always said military service makes a neat freak of anyone, but it was...nearly identical to most upper-market Prague apartments. 

As he found out during his habit of trespassing while on the clock. And off the clock. There wasn't much of a personal touch to Mac's place, which disappointed Adam somewhat. He liked puzzling out a persons likes and dislikes and 'tells' by visualising how they spent their downtime. There were a few empty picture frames, and a few odds and ends scattered along cabinets in the main living area, Adam left them alone, the empty spots telling a story he didn't want to pry into.

Instead he hovered around the glass and carbon fibre fireplace, enjoying the radiant, organic warmth. It wasn't an efficient heating system but it was rustic and calming, especially within the stark, sterile decor.

"Thought you had your own built in heater." Mac said, approaching him with a glass quart full of whiskey. Adam looked down into the glass, swirling it before taking a sip.

"I like wood fires. It's very....I like the warmth they give out." Adam shrugged, unsure if MacReady was asking a rhetorical question. 

"It feels alive and natural. My augs circulate waste heat but it's got its flaws. Overheating is really unpleasant and they tend to conduct low temperatures too well."

He didn't elaborate further, Panchaea was still an icy tomb in his memories, fleeting snatches of the deep blue. Swiss Alps hadn't been much better, snow working into his joints and melting and re-freezing as we clambered his way through the glacier drill holes.

Mac took a sip of his own drink, then smiled wolfishly at Adam.

"Explains why you're such a cuddle fiend. I like it. I'd like it even more sitting down in front of the fire."

Alright, so he was laying it on thick but he wanted to get Adam off his feet, bothered by his pallid skin and lingering vagueness. And also he'd had an irritating day at work. It warranted some down time, of a sort.

Adam raised his glass in a mock toast to that sentiment and sat down on the sofa, wiggling in close to Duncan, kissing his cheek before downing the last of the whiskey in one heady gulp. He relished the warmth trickling through him, and snuggled in close, basking in the flickering light and comfort. They laid by the fire for a while, before Mac ushered him to bed. Adam was enjoying the playful nips and kisses as they rolled about in the sheets, before settling into an embrace, fatigue taking over arousal.

As sleep overcame Adam, here it felt like nothing was wrong, the scraps of memory from today; pain, confusion, the deep blackness and nothingness that pulled at him from the edges of his consciousness dissipated.

He dreamt of an endless vista, a beautiful sky scape of the setting sun painting the sky rich purples and rosy pinks before bleeding into nothing. 

* * *

_ERROR_  
CODe OVrDE CORRUPT  
re-intitalising {CMD FUNCT FAR LOST SUN}  
{ERROR}  
ONLY 67.8% PURGE.  
{ICARUS CMD SET INVALID}  
INTLZE OVERRIDE RHO Y/N  
Y/N  
Y/N  


* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Náměstí Mečů is the district name where System Rift DLC takes place. Since I'm pretty sure it's not mentioned where MacReady lives, seemed as fitting as any.
> 
> There's also illusions to the role 'icarus' plays in the original Deus Ex. It's not required to play or know anything past DXHR or DXMD but the plot of the 1st game really helps tie a lot of in-game threads together as well as explain the whys behind using Greek myths. Besides the obvious "the illuminati are pretentious assholes" angle.


	14. Cast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thing about Casade failures is it takes a lot of little things to set it in motion. A breather before it all collapses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This months been...well a month. Good and bad, it's been hectic. While I'm working out the technobabble logistics of later chapters, I decided our boys needed some smut before things go to hell. Also a bit of establishing scenery. But mostly smut.

A purveying sense of wrongness woke Adam from his sleep, something that didn't really mesh with the pleasing view he had of MacReady's backside as the other man rolled over to a more comfortable position. 

He'd slept fine; better than usual, even. Despite his good mood, that vague dread clung to his thoughts, like wispy cobwebs and nothing seemed to dislodge them. It was still relatively early, sunrise was still half an hour away but the calendar app on his info link flagged that he was due for an early start at TF-29. Funny. He thought he'd already done that, but the highlighted date was today's date, for certain and yesterday had been marked as well. But any attempt to recall what had happened resulted in a foul headache that disappeared as soon as he stopped thinking about the specifics of yesterday.

That got Jensen's hackles raised. Something was interfering with his short term memory. But what? How? It couldn't be the brain injury he sustained at Sarif Industries, that had shredded part of his frontal and occipital lobes but not his memory recall.

Then again, his memory wasn't the greatest these days, the huge gaps after The Incident couldn't be accounted for, no matter how hard he tried to recollect. Could even be tied to his current issues which in all honesty, frightened the _shit_ out of him. Especially when he mentally scrolled back on the flagged appointment from yesterday. Only one item was there; an appointment with Dr Auzenne. An appointment he could no longer remember. The vague sense of dread flared back into full force, as the implications piled up until they weighed on his psyche like a ton of bricks. Speculation to spare and not a concrete answer in sight.

Since he was pre-occupied with trying to detangle the knotted web of conspiracy theories in his head, Adam startled and fell off the edge of Mac's bed when Duncan's cell phone cheerily rang, followed by a ping on his info-link.

* * *

Mac had been awake for a while now, enjoying the pre-morning quiet as he relaxed next to Adam. Who was as twitchy as a fox in the hunting season. Probably because of whatever happened yesterday, something he hoped he could coax out of the aug at some point. Just not right now, as the mellow notes of his phone startled Jensen enough to fall off the side of the bed, dragging most of the sheets with him. Mac wasn't concerned he'd hurt himself: the man regularly jumped out of VTOLs after all and MacReady's vinyl wood floors wouldn't make a dent on poly-carbonate. No, it was the fact Adam was so jumpy that concerned him, the normally taciturn agent a bundle of nerves during the past few weeks. He mused on several possiblities, some more disturbing than others, as he glanced at who was calling him, before tabbing the 'answer' touch button.

"MacReady."

Millers voice poorly concealed his amusement when he responded. Clearly Jim had good news or at least a trail of crumbs for Mac to follow regarding the hot mess he'd gotten involved in.

"Glad you were... _awake_ to answer my call. It's about what we discussed yesterday, yeah? Had a firm _chat_ with our resident psychiatrist about improper procedure."

Mac imagined if it had been a vid call, that pause in speech would be followed by an all too familiar introspective head tilt. 

"Do I assume Jensen is nearby?"

Mac scrowled, less at the fact Miller knew and more at the sly tone the Director was using. He was having way too much fun at being a wingman, since Duncan 'fessed up about inter-staff relations with Adam, after approaching him about what happened with Dr Auzenne. Provided they kept it under wraps, Miller really wasn't inclined to enforce any regs. Still, Mac was having his own issues coming to grips with dating Jensen, of all people and having others know about it. It wasn't so much shame but more for privacy, given how this all started, a tiny little thread of trust between the two of them, and he was loathe to reveal it to anyone but his closest friend.

"Yeah, he's here. Be social Jensen, and say hi to Jim, would you?" Mac grumbled, while holding the phone in the direction where Adam was still sprawled on the floor. That earned him a raised augmented middle finger before the other man called out, voice somewhat muffled by the pile of linen still coiled around him.

"'Morning Director."

Miller snorted in amusement before going back to business.

"I won't keep you long, but a heads up; both of you come in at regular office hours for now. I've got Jensen back on the Dvali caseload and sent him the details via his info link. Got Auzenne tied up in filing an incident and infraction report due to yesterday after Aria reported it as well as you but since her orders came from _outside_ the office, I don't know how long I can run interference. You'd think they'd _want_ to get post-mission reports done. 

Fucking hell. At least the timing is ideal, what with no one trying to blow up more of Prague's infrastructure. Both of you, report to my office first when you get in, preferably around 09:00."

"See you soon Miller."

"Don't get too rowdy, now."

"Goodbye _Director Miller._ "

He could almost imagine the grin on his superior's face, Mac rolling his eyes before ending the call. Couldn't be too sour about it, Miller's whole demeanour had done a one-eighty after London, and for the better, work was no longer a refuge from personal issues that Jim now faced head on. The prolonged tension in the office had ebbed, or at the very least shifted away from the CO.

Adam's head popped up from the side of his bed, eyebrows raised as he tried to piece together the slew of new information that had been tossed at him. Starting with the heady rush of relief that he wasn't due for another psychiatric session, which right now sat high on the list as the cause of the black outs and memory recursion. Near impossible to pinpoint how, when or why without more information, and Miller had given him an opening to clear his head of whatever influence or malady before delving back in. This wasn't like a mission, this was digging into the muck and darkness of his own mind; he couldn't afford a mis-step. Adam knew this was a discussion he could only delay for so long with Mac before it would start obstructing their relationship to each other. Synthetic heart notwithstanding, his very emotional core was pinned to his sleeve.

_I need to know more. Once I do, then I will- I want to bring this to light._

What followed after that train of thought was minor mortification that his boss knew he was intimate with one Duncan MacReady. 

Adam opened one eye and squinted at Mac, trying to puzzle out if this was an impending disaster, while grumbling to himself just what a cranky Australian might do to him in the event he'd crossed an interpersonal line, knowing full well Miller and MacReady had served together for a while.

Mac must have guessed what was bothering him, reaching over to ruffle his hair, tone thick with amusement.

"Don't worry mate. It's all fine. Jim's not gonna castrate anyone, and honestly, he'd of found out sooner or later. They don't nickname you 'Eagle-eye' in the SAS if you can't see a mark, plain as day. Nipped in in the bud before it became an issue but in hindsight, should have talked to you first."

Adam waved off the last part, conceding the point Mac had made.

"I'm not peeved about you dotting the i's and crossing t's, just uh I wasn't expecting it this morning. Among other things." 

Adam gingerly rubbed at the indent located above his right brow, soothing strained muscles and trying to ward off a tension headache. Damned bio feedback, the data burst from the infolink had been decently sized and felt like he'd had a wrench thrown at his head. He briefly skimmed it before tabbing the aug to inactive mode again. He'd probe it in more detail at work. Right now he had every intention of maintaining a work free zone, at least until they both got dressed. 

Mac shrugged, before wiggling back into a reclining position, patting the empty space next to him.

"You can get back in bed. Don't think we'll be getting that much shut eye, if you're in the mood for a bit of messing around."

Adam made a sarcastic looking and lewd 'go on' gesture, which Mac rolled his eyes at.

"A nice game of scrabble- _of course_ I mean sex you ass. Got work in a few hours, so no limping like a beat dog afterwards for either of us however."

Adam put on his most thoughtful look before answering.

"Soooo......" 

"Do they even make scrabble boards anymore?"

Adam probably deserved the pillow that was lobbed at his head for that. Worth it, however to usher away that vague fear that surfaced again after Mac ended the call with Miller.

* * *

After wrestling the duvet and sheets back onto the bed, Adam pounced on Duncan, playfully nipping at the tip of the older man's nose before leaning down for a kiss. He wanted to chase away, at least for a brief time, the rest of the world. Adam didn't want to think about yesterday, or a year ago, just wanted to be here, in this moment. Patience, wit and words fell by the wayside as Adam sought comfort and distance from the pervading wrongness that rolled in his mind like thick fog. He needed, if only for a short time, to forget the machinations that could with a push; tip the world in chaos. 

Gloss black fingers curled loosely in the disheveled sheets, most of his weight balanced on his knees and thighs, positioned outside Mac's hips. A near impossible position to hold, if his legs weren't forged from titanium rods and carbon fibre muscles, but easy enough for Duncan to shove him off if he became distressed at having augments atop and astride of him. Adam growled into the crook of Mac's shoulder when questing, organic hands stroked up and over his leg prosthetics and settled at his narrow hips.

There was something needy in the way Adam jumped him. He wasn't being pinned down or pushed into the mattress, rather his partner seemed to be in a protective state of mind, sensuality coupled with a desperate need for closeness. Mac wondered if this had anything to do with yesterday - it certainly seemed so, but there was no forcefulness in how Adam pressed against him, kissed him; if he was so inclined, he could easily push the aug away. A gesture of respect that warmed his heart, consideration for his wellbeing clearly at the forefront of Jensen's thought processes. He could do no less than to return the gesture, letting Adam set the pace, let him gain some control after yesterday.

Mac was a quick study, recalling last time how Adam pressed into his touch, deep, husky voice rumbling with pleasure at Duncan's rough, calloused fingers roaming over him. It was ironic, at least to Mac himself, how much his ex-wives groused at how gritty and rough his hands were; assault rifles and service pistols wrecked havoc on the hands that fired them. Meanwhile, now that rough hewn texture brought pleasure to touch-hungry skin, the pad of his thumb tracing the prominent arch of Adam's hip, the rest of his fingers kneading and squeezing into muscle. Adam's moan of pleasure, muffled by the other man kissing his neck, went straight to his groin, jerking his hips up and rutting against Adam's erection, the gap between their bodies narrowing, then disappearing as Adam arched forward, pressing his hips flush to Mac's while resting his head against his shoulder.

_Holy hell_ , that was hot, seeing Jensen nearly fold himself in half to jerk his cock against his own, both of them now fully aroused, slick, heated skin rubbing against each other's bellies. Adam keened, a desperate sound before ardently kissing Mac's facial scar, his beard tickling his skin, a strange feeling counterpoint to the heat and raw sensation between their legs.

Mac didn't think he could get this hot and bothered by frottage, even while naked but now he wanted to see it to the end, see if he could bring himself and Adam to completion without touching either cock, his own twitching in pleasure at the thought of seeing _his_ partner lose himself in carnal pleasure, to watch his face as he tipped over the edge, arched back in pleasure, not hidden in the crook of Mac's neck. Duncan longed for that one moment when all that weight and stress fell away from Adam, revelling in the idea he would witness it.

If that meant playing dirty and taking advantage of his natural hands, then so be it. His hands slid down from Adam's hips, following the thrumming pulse of the femoral artery to where it terminated at the connection port above the knee. Mac hadn't missed the little tics and tells that while Jensen saw his hands as his 'own' he very rarely bared his legs and seemed to live in long trousers despite what climate he was in. The reasoning why hadn't been shared; any number of factors could have caused it, and as was his lot these days, he had speculation to spare. Mac was more interested in where they ended and skin began at the moment. Feather light touches followed the manufactured curve of anchoring plates before gliding onto smooth, almost too shiny scar tissue. In response, Adam pushed his hips down and thrust forward, a prolonged and slow motion that placed exquisite pressure along his entire length. He gasped for air, flushed and almost burning with heat, Adam _growling_ next to his ear before tracing the edge with his tongue.

That spurred him on, Mac's hands slipping up from the mesh of metal and skin and towards sleek, soft skin. His fingers rubbed in circular motions, following the curves and dips of Adam's inner thighs and purposely avoiding the other man's dick, holding onto his self-imposed restriction from earlier. Adam whined - _whined!_ at the teasing touches, jerking his hips again, this time rutting his erection just under the head of Mac's own cock. It was nearly too much and definitely not enough, as they both thrust in unison, edging towards completion.

Adam curled over, mind a complex palate of love and fear, anxiety and excitement, desperation and satisfaction. He felt lost, seeking to hide his face until he was spent, until Mac intercepted him, one palm pressing against his jaw while their lips met, the other hand stroking his side, urging him to finish alongside the other. Adam opened his eyes, artificial irises almost seeming to shine in the muted light of the bedroom. He met Mac's gaze and held it for a moment, treasuring that second: for the length of it, everything felt _right_ , not like the series of broken and loose links his life felt like outside this tiny slice of time. The moment passed and brought with it a rolling climax, both them coming in succession, cries of pleasure muffled by the kiss they were still locked in.

Both of them remained still afterwards, trembling and sweating and covered with smears of semen. Duncan broke the silence, drawing a finger through the sticky mess on Adam's abdomen.

"As nice as it would to lay here and contemplate the modern art piece we've made, I think a shower is in order if we want to sneak in a cuddle before work."

Adam let out an amused snort before snickering and finger doodling a lop-sided smiley in the splatters of come on Mac's chest.

"Are you sure? We could pass this off as a Jackson Pollock. Make millions. Maybe buy an island."

Mac tugged him down for a kiss before gently shoving him off the bed and tugging him into the bathroom.

"I doubt you're ready to retire yet, Jensen."

In contrast to the feeling of suspended time during sex, the rest of the early morning went by in a blur. 

As they shared a pot of fresh brewed coffee, Adam was overwhelmed by the delayed revelation of how good MacReady was for him. He couldn't recall the last time he'd been so content, so happy. Adam wanted it to last, wanted to blurt out the jumble of feelings, but there wasn't any words he felt were enough. And too fast? Too soon? Life as an Interpol agent could be all too brief, yes but he was also too frightened of smothering this tiny little flame. It was enough, he mused to hold it in his hands and be warmed by its presence. Instead he thought back to post-Dubai. How had Duncan described himself?

"You really did break the mold when you were made."

Mac grinned at him and briefly hugged him.

"And don't you forget it."

* * *

In the coming days, Adam would hold onto the memory of that last peaceful embrace in an iron grip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, if everyone obeyed frat-regs I'd be out a lot of pairings. ;) A big shoutout to everyone who's commented, kudo'sed, bookmarked, messaged or subscribed! Every little bit encourages me to try and to try more.
> 
> (AN: my brains chewing on me to do a au of Deus Ex: Blacklight where Adam is stealth pacifist and not an unhinged can opener no brain! One project at a time!)


	15. The Hook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Machinations that have been in place for decades are not so easily unravelled. Lucius DeBeer gets involved. It is of course, going to go to shit, naturally.
> 
> And Adam gets the warm and fuzzies. 
> 
> _AN: Dr John C Lily was a real person and I was inspired by his uh...unique research but this work of fictions resemblance to real life is tenuous. I make no claim that any of this is true to life. Yes, I'm covering my butt._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a terrible case of the 'oh no I'm a terrible hack who has zero skill at story telling' sickness so this chapter was re-written about five times and STILL I'm not sure if I did any good at mystery but also laying enough groundwork not to be incomprehensible. Also trying to chunk out the info so it's not a word dump. 
> 
> A brief Illuminati rolecall:  
> Elizabeth DuClare: CEO of WHO and was responsible for dunking Adam in Facility 451. Has a thing with DeBeers. Has a thing with Delara.  
> Lucius DeBeer: the biggest of the big cheeses. Old guy who after the DXMD's prologue honestly looks like he's about ready to keel over. Honestly I wouldn't mind dropkicking him into the Artic Ocean. I'm sure Bob Page would too.  
> Dr Nicohlas Cipra: the absolute worst and was responsible for Daria's absolutely messed up situation. Who does that??

Adam Jensen considered himself a man of unshakeable morals. His own little compass remained true to doing the right thing, regardless of personal cost. That wasn't anything new or added in when he was augmented; he had always stood up to shortcuts or biases and in part, that was what drew the oft-disenfranchised to him. And of course made him the bane of anyone who maintained the status-quo.

What surprised him, as he stepped into the office three levels below ground, was that he'd managed to strike a chord with like-minded people, _people who just wanted to protect others_ while tangled up in an illuminati front. Miller had surprised him by stepping in, taking the heat off him regarding the faux debrief with Dr Auzenne. Adam had no proof anything nefarious had happened, his own memory shedding no light on the subject. Duncan, too had surprised him. Perhaps he should be ashamed he thought so little, when MacReady's actions spoke otherwise, but he hadn't expected the other man to put himself on the line for a _suspicion_ of foul play. Idle fingers pointing at civilian staff were not looked upon kindly in Interpol. More so, if a mole for the illuminati was involved.

MacReady didn't have much of a chance to talk after they both stepped out of the elevator, Aria ambushing the CO with a stack of documents in the entrance way, the former-Marine immune to Mac's scowl. 

This morning had been a whirlwind before work, both of them scrambling for the closest station; Adam somehow slipping past the checkpoint and winding up in the same carriage, much to the irritation of several natural passengers. Completely worth it, in Adam's opinion, given the great sex and the affirming post-coital discussion that had them running late to begin with. 

_Omega Ranch and Panchaea had a lot to answer for, regarding his sense of self-worth._ Altruism, especially any directed towards him had become incomprehensible afterwards, only now was he beginning to accept that he _did_ deserve dignity and safety. And dare he say it; love and affection. 

Adam chased away his maudlin thoughts, instead making a beeline for his desk to clock in and skim his work emails, making a note to flag the several relevant ones regarding his new case load. With Vincent Black six feet under and a chronic case of under-staffing, it made sense to put him on the Dvali leads for the London bombing. He'd had prior experience with gangs in Detroit and outfoxed members of the Prague underworld during the harried investigation from a month ago. 

He could also, perhaps use some resources to track down Koller, for the most part because he was concerned for him. How _one_ augmentation specialist ended up in so much trouble was a mystery. Not to mention the odd glitches and aches that bothered him since the Apex Towers mission had increased in frequency, especially after yesterday. It seemed a stretch when he thought about it, wondering if his issues with psych evaluations were distorting his perception. 

Probably. Bias or no, he wasn't letting anyone else but Vaclav poke around in his head or augments.

At least analysing the backlog of organised crime file data meant he had something else to focus on, other than that vague fear prickling in his hind brain and the niggling ache in his neck. His infolink chimed, a brief databurst directing him to Miller's office. The lack of tannoy announcement was unusual, but no doubt the director was taking this possible misconduct and information leak seriously. As he passed through the entrance of the counter-terrorism offices, he lent over the railing to glance at the psychiatrist's lounge on the lower level. The door was locked and the room dark, indicating Auzenne wasn't in there. Curious.

Sleek black fingers curled tightly around the railing he was leaning against, before relaxing, a minute shiver running down Adam's spine. He decided to brush it off as a chill in the sterile bunker air, as he entered the Directors office, the thick glass sliding shut behind him. 

* * *

_Undisclosed NSN server; IP unknown; time unknown_

No matter how many times Delara used the NSN, it was still surreal to suddenly be transported to a completely virtual realm. Adding to that, the avatar she used wasn't her own; but rather Elizabeth DuClare's. A nescessary precaution, given how splintered the Illuminati Council was after the events in Dubai and London. Shadows within shadows. Delara's faux digital skin shivered, wondering the specifics of why Lucius DeBeers needed to speak to her urgently. No doubt it had something to do with the report she'd drafted from yesterday. But good or bad? Could anything related to meeting the head of the Illuminati be defined like that?

She knew her handling of that session with Adam had been ham-fisted, but she hadn't expected the outcome and had only speculation to offer.

Her avatar flinched when a prim, almost dead-pan voice startled her out of her self flagellation. DeBeer's avatar strided towards her, unhindered by the physical illnesses that plagued his true body.

"I can almost hear you fretting over there. You're not due to be dragged over the coals. I, in fact may shed some light on the subject of...well _our_ subject."

Lucius sat down in the digital reconstruction of a plush velvet backed chair, gesturing for Delara to do the same.

"Perhaps I should have given Delara -you, more information regarding the key phases Manderley gave you in order to investigate the state of Mr Jensen's....malleability for lack of a better word."

Delara inclined her avatar's head, the neural net device mimicking her nervous tic of chewing her lower lip while she quietly spoke.

"The ones Dr Cipra programmed in at the Baltic facility? They were rather....esoteric. And unlike the man himself. I found him to be rather unpleasant."

DeBeers leant forward, a sardonic smile crinkling the edges of his mouth.

"The man's a hack, but a useful one. Cipra may have implemented the neuro-transplant experiments along with Orlov but the actual theory belongs to a former council member. A confidant of Hugh Darrow who jumped ship shortly before...."

Lucius sighed and waved a hand dismissively.

"....The Aug Incident. One Dr John C Lily. If Hugh was the Father of Tomorrow, then John was his partner in that tomorrow. The neuro-science, the meshing of the mind with the machine? He constructed the mental and neural blueprints and templates to make augmentations feasible."

"He was also a complete crack-pot. Convinced of several things, chief among them that memories were encoded into DNA, and that dolphins were our superiors and spoke the language of the ancient civilisations. That genetic-chimeras and meshing species instincts and memories were not only possible, but essential to adapt alongside human augmentation." 

Lucius leant back into the illusion of a chair, fingers laced together as he continued, "Most of the Council assumed he was a senile beatnik, that he had no grasp on what the illuminati were trying to achieve. An assumption, as I have found out, that underestimated his ambitions regarding the world and society."

Delara shifted in her seat. DeBeers was a powerful presence, but he could talk in circles for hours, the point seemingly no closer to being clear than from when she'd been summoned. She was about to ask what this had to with Jensen or even TF-29 when Lucius fixed his gaze on her, chasing away any ideas he was simply rambling, his digitised hands flexing before clearing his throat. Delara did not interrupt.

"I have my suspicions he was complicit in the Aug Incident but further to the point, there's enough to suggest he's been employed by both the DoD and the Department of Justice. An ample supply of augmented test subjects, of which it's likely Mr Jensen was a part of. The fact that his procedures have overridden our protocols like you found out, suggests he has been compromised. To what end, only Mr Jensen knows and only in his subconscious. "

Delara felt a heavy weight pressing down on her, dreading what the next step might entail, silently praying she would not have to witness it. Despite her inner turmoil, Delara's voice was calm and level.

"Are you proposing...termination?"

Lucius shook his head, a cold and calculating look spreading across his aged face.

"I'm proposing we find out how successful Dr Lily's research truly is, when it comes to survival. Contact Manderley about dispatching a Tyrant to Prague. Discreetly. The Dvali may be of some use in this regard."

As Dr Auzenne moved to stand and end the call, Lucius grabbed her wrist, digital fingers as unrelenting as steel.

"We are already off-course with our path to the future. We need everything we can get to ensure stay the course."

With that, DeBeers let go of her, one hand tugging at his immaculately pressed vest before leaving the digital space entirely.

"End Call."

* * *

Most of the time when Adam strolled into Miller's office, the director was either chewing out someone over the phone, or wearing a groove into the polished floor with all his pacing. So it was certainly a surprise to see Miller sitting at his desk, phone facing screen down and a jovial smile on his face. If Adam himself wasn't in such a good mood, he might have thought he'd crossed over into some alternate universe, like in an episode of the _Twilight Zone._

"You doing okay after yesterday, Agent?"

It wasn't the first time he'd been asked that by Director Miller, but it still caught him off-guard by the sincerity of the question. Adam hastily nodded, before retracting his HUD lenses, making an effort to return the respect he'd been given in earnest.

"I'm good, boss. Really. What did you need to see me about?"

Adam winced, wondering if the semi-affectionate 'boss' was overstepping his bounds; Sarif had rubbed off on him, in more ways than one.

If Miller seemed perturbed by the slip in his title, he didn't show it. Instead he gestured for Adam to sit, before opening up a drawer and pulling out a square of wood, humming a vague tune as he hunted around for the pieces of the chessboard.

"A few things Jensen, about your new caseload and if you'll humour me, a game of chess."

Adam raised one eyebrow, quizzical expression as plain as day. 

"You're not...yanking my leg are you?"

Miller paused, belatedly realising that to a suspicious mind, it was an odd request, especially during work hours or a brief. His tone still chipper, he decided to toss the agent a bone, in regards to his reasoning.

"I don't think that's physically possible but honestly? The State Police liaison hounding me to call him back and I'm stonewalling him. Jackass. So as far as he's concerned I'm in an intensive strategy meeting and can't be disturbed. As to why I'm asking _you_ to play, I've found the best way to learn about someone you want to know better is to see how they fare in a chess match. Standard rules but no timer, assuming you know them." 

Adam scratched at his beard thoughtfully, before grinning and taking the proffered seat, noting in amusement the black pieces were orientated towards him.

"I dated a scientist a lifetime ago. Of course she taught me to play."

"Game on."

* * *

For a while, the two of them sat in silence, with only the gentle clink and scrape of sculpted pieces moving across a checked board. Adam, as was his wont, had started with a conservative push on the board, pawns inching forward in a manner designed to see how Miller would respond. The Director was clearly skilled, countering with a brazen strike with a white knight and capturing several black pieces, while stepping into enemy territory.

While Adam contempted his next move, Miller leaned back in his seat before deciding to broach the subject of yesterday.

"Just to be clear, Dr Auzenne is currently on enforced leave for the week. There wasn't much I could do with short notice and with Mandeley hamstringing me, but I've got it logged as a breach of workplace safety. Regardless of the why's and what's, as a psychiatrist, she should have sought medical attention in the event of a downed agent. But I suspect that's not all."

Adam blinked, his usually covered eyes intensely expressive. Clearly with his focus no longer split between two crisises, Miller didn't miss a beat.

Adam nodded, before moving his bishop in line to take the marauding white knight.

"No. it isn't. The session was about my role as UC in a TF-29 mission. The Arizona prison complex. Did..you authorise it?"

Miller paused, and looked at Adam, making eye-contact, trying to emphasise the truth of his words.

"I certainly didn't. There's only one person asides from the General Secretariat who can break the command protocol. But I have no idea what Mandeley needed with that information or why he needed to re-open a closed case. Or employ underhanded or dubious means to question you. I assume as such, given you can't recollect yesterday. Tinkering with cranial augs, or using using sodium pentothal or even fucking voodoo on _any_ of my staff will **not** be tolerated under my watch." Miller moved one of his rook pieces, placing it into position with more force than nescessary.

Adam moved in to capture the white knight, gently holding the painted wood between two synthetic fingers, tactile sensors tracing the rough hewn, hand carved shape of a horse head.

"But there's no concrete proof, of course. Only the consequences."

Standard fucking procedure, it seemed.

Miller sighed, and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, the lighthearted mood of earlier seeping out of the room.

"I trust my people. I trust MacReady's suspicions and I've learnt to trust your instincts and what you tell me. And finally, I trust my gut. There's rot down here, and I'll not have it any longer."

The white rook suddenly moved, breaching the arranged wall of pawns. Adam glanced at the board, taking a minute to realise he was in check. Damn. He hastily pushed a knight into a defensive position to protect his king.

A desperate ploy, one Jim had a strategy for, but he longed to extend the game. For once being in a position where his greatest losses were shaped chess pieces. But he and Jensen had a job to do and no amount of stalling would change the outcome. Miller's Queen strode into play, capturing Adam's king from behind.

"Check Mate. You leave your left flank exposed."

Adam squinted, realising that his initial chase after Miller's white knight had distracted him from the White Queen moving down the board. A valuable lesson, one he acknowledged with a smile and gracious defeat.

"So I did. Thanks for the tactics session, Director."

Jim returned the smile, musing that if he was fifteen years younger and not saddled with emotional baggage, he'd probably be flirting at this point, augs be damned. Jensen was positively charming when he wasn't flagrantly disobeying orders. Wasn't hard to see why MacReady had gotten attached.

Back to business.

Tabbing open a recent report, he turned his screen to face the agent, fingers tapping on the keypad to highlight the critical part he wanted to discuss with Adam. A small map of Prague's Red Light distract popped up in a seperate window.

"We've received new intel regarding the Dvali, but we've got a limited timeframe to act. Before I even consider moving on this, I need to know if you feel of sound mind to be on the field. I don't have the time or inclination for red tape regarding psych evals for obvious reasons but I'm also not going to push an agent into the field if he's unable. But this requires stealth and foreknowledge of the location."

Jim winced after he said that, knowing by definition he was pushing Jensen into service. He knew the agent wouldn't refuse, Adam had waltzed into the lions den many times before, this particular one during martial law, no less. He'd known the answer before he'd even asked the question.

"I'm fine Director. I can do this. In and out. This is important."

The crime syndicate had gone to ground after London, and if this intel bore fruit, it could tie up a lot of loose ends, some professional and some personal.

Damn, if Miller didn't hate being right sometimes. Trying to dissuade Jensen, however was like trying to get the sun to set in the east. Cosmically impossible. So he'd just have to settle for risk minimisation.

"Recon _only_. If you need to bail, do so and take the route of least resistance. Open infolink. If you go dark, I will strangle you, if MacReady doesn't beat me to it first."

Adam stood up, HUD lenses snapping into place, mouth drawn in a tight smile.

"Copy that, boss."

As Adam went to step out of Miller's office, Jim called out after him.

"Watch your left flank."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have every intent of delving deeper into the 'just what the fuck happened to Adam in Arizona' don't worry. And Koller will come into play, I can't leave out the -cutest- cyberpunk dystopian doctor of dubious doctorates in medicine.


	16. Flood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam's mercy during the Missing Link DLC during his time with Sarif comes back to bite him firmly in the ass. The illuminati have a keen sense of poetic vengeance, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Gets a bucket of popcorn) side note: oh my god, I suspect this will be novel length by the time I'm done, how did this get out of hand

Adam had wanted to touch base with MacReady before he left TF-29 after a few hours of maintaining a paper trail for his current workload. For his own assurance and his partners, but the older agent had been engaged in a meeting with the rest of the counter-terrorism staff. No doubt Miller would brief him on what he would be doing. Maybe even assign Mac to comms later; but that vague fear, that prickly itch at the base of his neck had Adam spooked.

A rare occurrence. Skittishness wasn't often an issue with him. He had, after all once traded favours with a Dragon in the Hengsha Triad to stow aboard a ship bound for a black site military operation. Two years on from that, and he still wasn’t sure if he should thank Tong Si Hung or drop kick him into the Yangtze River. Adam lent against the stone arch that bridged the Vltava river, just past 'Praha Dovoz', deciding a nicotine hit would settle him before starting recon. He reached into his coat pocket and pulling out a crumpled cigarette packet and a lighter. A pleased grunt escaped his lips when the packet yielded a few filtered cigarettes and not the empty container he was half expecting.

Probably not the best vice, given his limited organic body weight post-augmentation but no one was perfect. And as annoying as the Sentinel Health implant had been in the first few months post-op (being unable to drink himself into a stupor had been hell) but it was useful in some respects now that he was no longer a chain smoker; only craving one when he needed an edge over the near constant stress that he lived with. Made less of a dent in his lung capacity and his credit chip.

The Red Light district was still closed, along with it street level access to ZaDiviadlem St. So there was little reason to rush to start his investigation while the sun had yet to set for another hour or two. Taking in a long draw from the half exhausted cigarette, Adam exhaled, looking down at the gently undulating water below him. The reflection of the water dipped and swirled in incomprehensible patterns, calucated by the push and pull of gravitional forces. It was oddly calming, counterpoint to the stimulant working its way through his bloodstream. Adam could almost _see_ a message hidden in the waveforms, the itch and tickle in his neck running down the length of his spine. 

Everything slowed to a crawl at that moment, the seconds between each heartbeat extended ten fold. He was boiling and freezing. He was flying and he was falling. In that moment, he existed as a quantum event, neither living or dead.

* * *

ERROR CODe OVrDE CORRUPT re-intitalising {CMD FUNCT ???}  
{ERROR} {ICARUS CMD SET INVALID}  
**INTLZE OVERRIDE RHO **Y/N Y/N Y/N****

********

********

The words meant nothing to Adam, he did not see or hear them as words, but binary pulses, transitioning from electrical to chemical within a split second. His brain did not see a DOS prompt as a computer would; augmented as he was, he was still fundamentally human. It was not yes or no, but the giddy surge of adrenaline one felt when leaning over a precipice. 

A choice then. To leap or to run. To what? Or what from? Adam's heart thudded against his chest, pushing him to make a decision. He balked. But in the end, he made a choice.

He jumped.

_**OVERRIDE RHO ACCPTED.** INTLZING. 23% _

* * *

Adam jolted to awareness with a start, finding himself slumped over the stone wall arch he'd been leaning against while having a smoke. Typical luck, he'd dropped the still lit butt into the river, feeling a pang of guilt for accidentally littering. It seemed like hours had passed, but his internal clock registered less than five minutes had elapsed from the strange, warm feeling that had flooded his body.

He felt...fine. That annoying itch at the base of his neck had turned into a pleasant warmth, and his shoulders weren't held so taut as they usually were. If not for the fact he had blacked out, he'd have brushed it off as a nicotine high. He was torn between 'if it ain't broke don't fix it' and 'my body is not my own' debating whether to heed caution or push it away. What cinched it was his purpose for being out in public. He had a task to do. Strange painless sensations fell much lower on a priority scale than important intel. Rolling his shoulders and arching his back, as if he'd meant to take a micro-sleep for the few people staring at him, Adam headed towards the Red Light district at a meandering pace.

To the untrained eye, Adam looked like a tourist milling around, either lost or waiting to meet up with a friend. In reality he was casing entry points and escape routes should things go south and he was spotted in Dvali territory or by a cop on the mafia's payroll. Curfew had been lifted a week after the London attacks, the city deciding to de-escalate the situation once the dots were connected with the recent bomb attacks in past months. However despite being 'allowed' to be out past a certain time, many police used excessive force on augmented citizens. Coupled with Freedom of Treatment 'policies', the curfew had just been replaced with a more subtle stick.

One Adam intended to avoid. The inequity of it gnawed at him, worse still because he knew little could change it. He had tried. Failed. Nearly too burnt out on cruelty to try again. Nearly: he was after all, still striving to uncover the shadows and cut to the root of the problem.

Someone wolf whistling at him, along with a smack to his ass, broke his tenuous focus on the task at hand. Grimacing as an intoxicated man assumed he was a hooker grabbed Adam's arm tightly, hard enough to bruise, if it was still flesh and bone. Almost any other time he'd have ignored it or brushed off the lewd contact, but the situation did give him an opportunity to divert the pair of eyes that were watching him from an elevated alcove facing the entryway to ZaDiviadlem St. Arguably just as subtle as punching a brick wall but more in keeping with the district's sleazy atmosphere.

Instead he grabbed the drunkard, dragging him into the side alley behind a row of dumpsters. Adam leant in close, to whisper intimately in the stranger's ear.

"Didn't your mother tell you to ask first?"

Realisation at the enormity of his fuck up slowly dawned on the man's face, drunk glazed eyes widening in surprise before the wind was knocked out of him, vision fading to black as the aug head butted him. 

It was probably in poor taste to knock out a civilian. It registered as unescessary but Adam could not find it within himself to care enough to regret the almost predatory urge that had spurred the impulse. 

With some measure of satisfaction, Adam swiftly bundled up his would be molester before slinging the unconscious man into a mostly full dumpster, vindictively hoping the asshole would wake up with a terrible hangover.

Hopefully the eyes that had followed him would assume they'd both disappeared down the alley for a makeout session, covering his tracks as he hacked the keypad for the back service door of the apartment complex that served as a safe house for the Dvali.

He was in.

 **OVERRIDE RHO ACCPTED.** INTLZING. 57% ****

* * *

Perched on the edge of a third story balcony, Adam started to suspect something was wrong. The closed off cul dé sac where the Dvali occupied theatre was devoid of guards. Cliché aside, it was far too quiet. Only a single Sentry Bot™ patrolled a loose circuit in front of the main entrance. A neural twitch switched his augmented eyes into Smart vision, only a few scattered blobs of red indicating heat signatures; his radar map tagging them as hostile.

Still too little; the Dvali required significant manpower to run its various interests and only so many members would have jumped ship. Adam fidgeted, wondering if he should investigate or simply get in and out with whatever digital intel he could peel from their mainframe.

It _was_ recon after all, which required getting answers. Mind made up, he descended from the apartment balcony, dropping off the last few feet and letting the actuators in his leg prosthesis absorb the impact. Slinking between two parked cars, Adam lent against one, tracking system buzzing with urgency. Something or someone was nearby, something other than the lumbering robot, it's predictable footfalls logged on his visual HUD. Switching to Smart vision again revealed nothing except wisps of heat, as if someone _had_ been there.

Adam remained prone, his cardiac implant regulating its beat and his respirations, gearing up for a fight. Something was missing.

Where...where had the security robot gone? It's rhymic steps were stilled. Peering around his cover, Adam spied the machine. Or what was left of it, its chassis sparking and crumpled on the road.

Sixth sense, or something similar from his augments flashed a dire warning to **move**.

Adam twisted into a combat roll, sinewy, sleek metal limbs landed him into a crouch, ten feet away from the now smouldering husk of a smart car. That odd primal surge from earlier returned, this time Adam embraced it, _growling_ at his assailant. Who stood silent, cacooned in a modified Exo-suit. Chinese-Military grade.

 **OVERRIDE RHO ACCEPTED** INTLZING 93%.

Adam's eyes swept over the suit, catching a partially scratched off logo in his sights. The remains of a bull, curled in a circle with a styled T sloppily stencilled over it. The suit turned around, giving Adam a full glimpse of it's occupant, realising with a jolt he knew them.

_Holy. Fucking. Shit._

The exo-suit's speaker distorted Pieter Burke's voice, but not enough to hide the malicious glee in his voice.

"I'd say this wasn't personal, but I'd be fucking lying, Mr _Jensen_."

* * *

His first instinct was to leap into combat. It was what he'd done, back at Rifleman Bank station, fuelled by rage, despair and desperation. He had _needed_ to find Megan back then, needed to avenge the hundreds of lives cut down by a sadistic Commander's scrub order. What he needed now, however was to survive; Miller's order ringing in his ears. The path of least resistance, in this case meant not endangering himself. Adam reached for his grenade cache, palming a small white sphere, before lobbing it at Burke's head with pinpoint accuracy. Smoke erupted from the device, allowing Adam to reach cover before the heavy whine of a charging Hyperion laser rifle could reach his ears.

He could retreat. He could make it to the manhole cover that led to the sewer network. Burke would have to dismount to pursue. Another chilling scenario formed; Burke could simply turn his sights on the Red Light district if he was rogue or fell under Tyrant rules of engagement. He could kill a lot of people before being subdued.

 _Fuck. Damned if I do..._.

 _Damned if I don't_.

Adam shifted in position behind a concrete pillar, feeling a sense of déjà vu. Had he not had similar stakes in London? He had prevailed then. He wouldn't fail now-

**OVERRIDE RHO COMPLETE- STAND BY**

Adam's spine locked into an arch as he howled in agony, pain piercing his neck and head like a heated needle, HUD juddering with static as core data and neural weaves crashed. His infolink shut off at the same time Adam slumped to the ground, the heavy thud of Burke's Exo-suit growing louder as the former Belltower operative approached his prone form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out ol' Burke hooks up with Tarvos if he's spared during Missing Link. Horrible, thy pseudo is techno4tomcats


	17. Danse un Folie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam fights, for his life and for his sanity. Content warning applies heavily to this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is where the graphic depiction of violence tag comes in. There is depiction of gore and severe injury. Also brief mention of animal experimentation and death. Stay safe, and let me know if additional warnings need to be added.

For a moment, Adam assumed he was dead.

However, that thought was dismissed as Adam was fairly sure neither Heaven, Hell or Purgatory would smell like a prison block lavatory. Adam wrinkled his nose in disgust before opening his eyes, unsure what to expect. Last he could remember was Prague, ambushed by Burke, then icy-hot, piercing _agony_ before he passed out.

He _really_ hated being unconscious.

Something wasn't right. He wasn't in Prague, but in a place that had haunted his dreams recently, harsh dry air mingled with human misery and unrelenting heat. The Penthouse.

How the _fuck_ did he get from Prague to Arizona? What _the fu-_  
He wasn't awake after all, he belatedly released, as reality shivered around him, portions squaring and corrupting as if his memory were a badly compressed video. 

Adam's stomach clenched in an icy fist, fear making his augmented fingers twitch in anticipation. This was wrong. Beyond wrong. The memory played out, uneffected by Adams distress, rendering him only a witness to the past. Nothing he did seemed to change what he was seeing, dashing any hope this was a figment of a dream. He tried his infolink, a boardband cry for help to anyone, everyone who had his secure line. No one answered. Panic surged through Adam, eyes darting all over; looking for any clue that would help him understand what was happening, why control was wrestled from his body, why....

There. Midst the distorted and glitching frames of his heads up display was a string of red numbers, ticking over at a rapid rate. Almost as if... _no._ That..that was impossible. There was no way he could access that.

Adam was not remembering his stay at The Penthouse. He was watching a recording his cranial augments had made after he'd been subdued and knocked out during his processing at the prison. 

A recording that was in direct conflict to what he remembered, nine months ago.

* * *

_DATA LOG: Eye-Know Retinal Prosthesis recording ACP-2028-0451732_

It was hard to parse the jumble of visual, audial and accelerometer data that made up the recording, but he instinctively knew how to piece it together so that the telemetry formed a clear picture. It was an unnerving and out of body experience, to say the least.

He had not been dragged off to his cell as he’d previously _thought_ -remembered but taken to a cargo lift instead, escorted by two enforcement officers, neither matching any data he had. Adam’s gyroscope spat out a string of data that indicated he’d moved several levels below processing while chemographic sensors picked up significant traces of blood and bleach but little to no traces of people; something out of place if he had been taken to a prison block.

All of it pointed to the unnerving prospect he was in a prison-fed laboratory.

With as much care as someone unloading a sack of potatoes, Adam was tossed into sealed off room; not a cell but it had only one exit; which sealed as soon as his then comatose body was dropped to the floor. Adam found the 'mental controls' to fast forward through the cranial augment recording, tiny red numbers flicking at an astonishing rate. It was a truly queasy feeling to see everything in 'real time' move as if in time lapse. With a flick of his left wrist, the recording slowed down, revealing someone entering the observation cell next to where his then-body was lying, prone but conscious.

The figure was distorted, pieced together from Doppler radar and half-glimpses to his visual cortex.

His cranial aug tagged them with a [?] query; voice patterns registered a 87% match to Peter Wörthmüller, despite not matching up to his _memories_  
_-OVERRIDE RHO MARKER  
Data point: Peter Wörthmüller: holographic pseudo of Dr John Lily - FLAG;: FRMR ILLUMINATI - IFF -TAG: N-HOSTLE_

Even being a mere spectator to this recording, Adam cringed at the intrusive data packet that bombarded his mind, bringing him to his figurative knees. Gritting his teeth, Adam struggled through the miasma of foreign code surging against very essence, intwining with organic and mechanical, twisting him inside out and knitting him together in a seamless blend. As the override code pressed forth, _changing_ him, the recording from his augmentations became clearer, pushing aside the fabricated memory of his undercover mission, the false memories of Flossy, Stenger, even Guerrero. Only the 'Fixer' remained, a puppet of light and shadow designed to obscure the appearance of the one who orchestrated the facade. A thin, beady eyed man, scalp dotted with cranial augmentation, reeking of gore and anti-septic. Stray strands of brindle fur clung to his trousers, heavy boots echoing in the empty laboratory.

Adam didn't have much of a chance to be horrified at the scope of the illusion that was being torn down around him; the decrypted recording resumed.

The scenery changed again, along with the time stamp of the recording, some hours after the data stream had paused. Adam-from-then was on a standard hospital bed, on his side with both his arms and legs cuffed to the railing while his spine and neck were exposed, sterile pads and clamps staunching any blood flow. Worthmüller -no- Dr _Lily_ was meticulously threading cables into the ports than ran along the length of his spinal augmentations, switching effortlessly between scalpel and solder, wiring in new connectors.

The recording shifted to another viewpoint. The neural connectors from earlier now braided into a slithering mass of cables, looking almost like a bunched cluster of tentacles. Adam-from-then was awake, in a drugged stupor-  


_He could smell gore and the sharp bitter tang of disinfectant, the scent almost strong enough to distract from the horrendous agony that consumed his back; as if a thousand needles, icy-hot, were pushing into him. Vision blurred, he tried to turn his head, trying to see what was causing the pain; but he could not move. Murky shapes danced in front of his eyes, at odds with the clattering of nails against wet contrete. The air reeked of misery, howls and cauterwauls bleeding into a drone that made his ears ache._

So, the dreams he'd been experiencing in the past few weeks weren't dreams, but snippets of hidden memory rising to the surface. 

The neural recording took a strange turn, data bleeding into each sense, colours flaring brighter and brighter.

Adam's mind struggled to interpret the streaming lines of code as it oozed into his augs and into neural synapses, gushing past PEDOT clusters and surging against the very core of his being.

Before he could blink, Adam was thrown into another memory-recording, this time it was audio only. A mixed blessing; seeing himself hacked to pieces and being _hacked into_ was gut-churning but now he had to piece together the snippets of sound into something he could work with.

Fortunately, the former Illuminati scientist was prone to a constant diatribe of mumbling. Most of it was incomprehensible, techno-babble being tossed around with all the flair Pritchard used to do when frustrated. The cybersecurity chief would have been invaluable if there had ever been an opportunity to go spelunking in Adam's mindscape before this. Hacking door panels was child's play compared to the elegant clusters of data or the sheer mass of information being processed in real time by ganglion and brain matter. Not that Adam could do anything now, the process had been started near a year ago. By some fluke or whim of the organic code, he'd stumbled on functions of his augs he'd never dreamed of accessing. All he could do was learn, while in the throes of the code invasion. 

Adam grasped onto a familiar kernel of information; Dr Lily was grousing about the sloppy work of one Dr Cipra and launching into a long winded rant at how slapping two minds together with the neurological equivalent of duct tape was an affront to science. Adam doubted that Daria or the rest of his 'patients' saw it that way.

_"If he'd been smart...he'd- have- yes, Teddy. Quiet. If he'd of tried to alter basal functions via the hindbrain. Good- riddance..[inaudible, followed by a high pitched whine]"_

A bios dialog popped up in front of Adam's 'internal' HUD, declaring ALT_CODE ICRUS had been overwritten. A flurry of boxes flickered past his sight, several of his augs, the experimental ones were being deactivated. Typhoon and nanoblade were next, except they were shunted into the code tree for...

The TYM restraining chip.

Had Adam been in control of his body, he'd have scowled at that; should have figured any assurances the chip had been removed were false. Red flooded his vision, the override code gaining another foothold, this time within the chip itself. Adam's Sentinel implant blared a warning of a bleed in the upper brain stem, the notification swallowed by a cascade of errors from his chest cavity augments, the artificial life support going haywire from being overridden.

Another audio clip played of Dr Lily, muffled and tinny; one of his implants must have been disconnected when he was being operated on.

_"There's very little separating our minds from animals like you Teddy. Except humans! They operate on the arrogant assumption they know best, forgetting millions of years of honed instinct and shared genetic memory."_

There was a whimper and a startled bark, along with the clang of tools hitting a metal surface. _"Shh..Teddy. You're helping, such a good dog, right? Our poor patient, they tampered with him! Them! Thieving snakes. Pulled apart! But this, this is better. No grey. Black and white. Survival at any cost, wired into the very core. They cant take anymore, not me, not him. That's..Thats what Darrow would do. I miss Hugh, don't you?"_

Revulsion wracked Adam, rage and despair bubbling like a violent chemical reaction. This violation cut far deeper than any he'd endured, mutilated by a madman who had followed the insanity that plunged the whole world into the hateful chaos that threatened everything. This vile...mockery of compassion had seethed in him for months, gnawing on his very soul while he was unaware, triggered into action carelessly...

Override Rho slithered along his medulla, heart skipping a beat.

**GET OUT get OUT GET OUT of MY HEAD**

The murky shapes from his corrupted memory sharpened into focus, overlapping the audio playback: a russet coloured hound, heavily augmented, vivisected and their writhing, hurting consciousness transmitted into code. Instinct, memory and intent, all funnelled and packaged into a ticking time bomb.

Organic sleeper code, taking root in his mind, a leash like no other. Encryption slammed the access point he'd been viewing shut, pushing him out of the past and back into the present.

_Stop. Please._

'This is Override Rho.' Words not spoken but shared, a sequence of images and sounds that felt almost _mournful_.

"What are you? What's..happening..what..was done..to me?" It was harder to speak, Adam realised, feeling an overwhelming exhaustion taking over.

A tidal wave of information washed over him, images, sounds, smells, clips of text seeping into cracks. One of his own memories of Eliza Cassan surfaced and Rho moulded it like clay, trying to draw a similarity between HELLE and itself. Adam snarled, lashing out at anything, anyone. He was not a system or a conglomerate. He. Was. Adam. Jensen. No one thing could take that away.

'There are no borders now.' 

Adam felt/saw/remembered fingers carding through fur, face twisted in a snarl, then compulsion driving him to bow in obeisance. That had been Teddy's life, before being stripped and turned into malware, chewing through his body and mind.

_'The words have power, a cage that protects both sides'_

All Adam knew was that he was out of time. He was awakening in real time, back in the present, where he was in the middle of a fight for his life. If it was truly his anymore, minutes had only passed but to Adam, who hurt to his very core, it felt like an eternity.

 _No! I want to live. I have to live. For him - for Mac, yearning for the joy he'd so recently had in his grasp._ Adam rebelled against the tightening choke hold of Override Rho, animal instinct surging forward as awareness rushed towards them.

'Do not fight this.'

The images that followed the command were gentle, at odds with the desperate struggle Adam faced. The last thing he saw was a cascade of system errors.

* * *

Burke had been prepared for dozens of scenarios when he'd been tapped for this mission. This....was not one of them. After Jensen scuttled to cover, the aug seemed to have some sort of fit before kneeling over. A boon in that the Interpol agent was down and out, but Burke was somewhat disappointed he hadn't gotten to beat the sass out of Jensen first.

Oh well.

There wasn't anything in his orders that specified he couldn't enjoy a bit of bloodsport. Reaching down to pick up Adam with one heavy Exo-suit servo, he tossed the limp body between each servo before holding up by his right arm augment. The servo that was free prodded Jensen in the chest, before drawing back and curling into a fist.

The blow never hit the mark, as the Exo-suit arm was caught in between two mechanical calves. Adam's eyes flared for a brief second before he writhed in Burkes grasp. With a grating sound, part of the metal Exo-structure of the suit crumpled, severing fuel lines and armor plates. The force of the blow wasn't enough to injure Burke directly, but it was enough to cause a malfunction of the armoured suit.

"You little fucker," Burke ground out in annoyance, "Playing possum like that." 

Rather than a witty comeback, Jensen _snarled_ like some mongrel possessed and tried to pry his arm free, nanoblade sliding out clumsily to scrape against metal, the blow doing little except scrape paint off the machine. 

Under normal circumstances, Adam might have tried to disarm Burke or use the pinhold against the former mercenary but instinct ruled his mind and body. Instead he pulled _back_ , attempting to twist out of a larger predators grip. Adam's feet dug into the slick pavement, heel cracking the surface and providing traction.

Something had to give. Sarif Industries had prided itself on the quality of its mechanical augments. But polymer and tempered carbon fibre had its limits.

Adam hit that limit, the chimeric malware in control dismissing the stress indicator warnings and the telltale creak and groan of components splitting under an unrelenting tension. Pistons and fibres ground together while muscles began to fray, skin tearing as prosthetic anchors were pulled free.

A thick arc of blood splattered across the ground, while the artificial limb in Burkes grasp twitched in its death throes. Adam was on his knees, curled protectively around the remains of his right shoulder, the connection port for his right limb a mangled mess, strings of black polymer dangling like shredded tissue. 

_Well, shit._

Burke hadn't seen that coming, stunned into inaction by the primal scream of agony that had crawled out of Jensens throat like he was a man possessed. Unease prickled the back of the ex-Belltower soldiers neck, disturbed by how Jensens optical augments had narrowed the artificial pupils to thin slits.

Pieter Burke, despite being privy to the HYRON project, had never seen such absolute fuckery like tonight. Seems his bosses had a right to be curious. But Adam was down for the count, no matter how ballsy an agent; not many people could shrug off having their arm ripped off. Dismounting from the exo-suit, Burke kicked at Jensen's knees with indifferent cruelty. Not even a twitch.

Curiosity won over caution, Burke failing to see the raised 'claws' of a deactivated TESLA hand augment rushing towards his face. The jagged, raised hook edges caught his lower jaw, shattering it and rending his face nearly in two. 

Stunned, howling in pain, Burke had no time to react when Jensen pounced on him, knees driving brutal force into his ribs before a second swipe of his left hand tore open Burke's throat.

* * *

Pain.

_Pain!_

This time it was Adam, the real consciousness that screamed the loudest. The Rho Instinct recoiled, its grip on Adams body slackening enough for him to stagger forward, before falling to his knees again. Only one arm responded to brace his upper body, terror and agony making his whole frame shake. His..his fucking right arm had been torn off. Dumbstruck, he let out a harsh bark of laughter.

"It's not _supposed_ to come off. "

Dimly, he wondered how Vaclav would react to him casually strolling into his safe-house with his severed arm tucked under his left arm, before jauntily tossing it at the augmentation specialist. Koller would try to strangle him if Sarif didn't beat him to it. He was probably going into shock. Right. Focus. 

Chest heaving, he scrabbled to piece together what had happened, eyes widening in shock at the ravaged corpse of Pieter Burke. He wasn't going to shed a tear over the sadistic ex-marine but was revolted by the carnage that lay before him, knowing it was his hand that did this. Bile surged in his throat, before he heaved what little he had in his stomach onto the ground.

The code in his mind nudged him, a flash of instinct/hurt/danger imagery following, as if it was trying to explain, no, _justify_ the brutality. His worst fears, a reality. A monster, by any definition. _People_ did not tear into combatants like a starved beast.

_"I don't want you to fear me."_ Had it only been just over a month he'd pleaded that? His grip on reality and on his body slackened and Adam fell into a dreamless void. 

Instinct wrestled control back from Adam, body taut with tension and pain.

_Hide!_ Instinct knew on some level, that others would come looking, drawn to the violence. Instinct needed to flee, to found some dark corner to recover. With inhuman grace, Jensen slunk towards the manhole just outside the former Dvali theatre, snarling with pained effort as he pulled at the heavy plate, before sliding down the access ladder, unaware of the blood trail that followed him. Prague's sewer system was a maze of dark crevices, he'd be safe here.

* * *

MacReady really couldn't pin down his unease on any one thing. Sure Adam hasn't switched his comms back on, or even sent a data packet or status update. Adam could handle himself, and despite concerns about his wellbeing, was the best agent for this task. No one on the task force could match up to Adam's infiltration skills.

Still didn't appease the tightness in his chest or the ache in his bones. Something felt wrong. Something he wasn't quite willing to pin on paranoia.

After all, he had received that bizarre text from Adam about an hour ago. Neither of them tended to use military lingo outside of the field. Just what did he mean by Stop Rho? R...what? The rest of the message had simply been a string of numbers. 50.3714.43. He'd sent a reply, asking for clarification. Google hadn't really yielded any answers. 

As Mac glanced over at his phone, he noticed the message still had no read receipt tag. Shit.

This wasn't sitting right. Mac pushed himself out of his office chair, briskly striding to Millers office. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a lot longer than I anticipated writing. Five drafts and I'm -still- not sure if I conveyed what I wanted to. Cyber-fiction really does lend itself to the idea of cyborg malware. 
> 
> Some of the more techno-babble stuff will be expanded on, if it seems a bit muddy.


End file.
